Living as Kuromu Dokuro
by SugarHigh-Airis
Summary: Most people don't live twice, but she was in a typical fanfic of dying and appearing in KHR. Replacing the recently dead Chrome, she held a lazy (?) resolution to defy the story line...? See her struggle with her new life! Random updates, unevenly spaced. Chapter lengths fluctuate extremely. Rated T for some reason.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Edited as if I went crazy. I couldn't take it anymore, and since there are many things that occurred to me that I have to add in, also since I am finally back in the writing mood, yeaah... this happened.

_Never want to own the official one in fear of ruining the masterpiece. Besides, I've heard that manga artists don't get much sleep._

* * *

She never thought she would die like this.

_**Confusion.**_

_**Realization.**_

_**Fear.**_

**_A blur of lines and colours as she found her world flipped._**

"What th-"

_**(But it didn't stop there.)**_

She couldn't help it.

**_There was suddenly all too much space around her,_**

**_her center of gravity robbed clean._**

She broke into a piercing scream,

effectively cutting herself off before she could vocalize her intended words.

**_Now she was falling._**

She felt her throat constrict painfully,

_oh fuck,_

but she was incapable of stopping her shrieks.

_**Falling through the air.**_

Despite the screams,

uncontrollable and damaging to her throat,

**_Plunging into...?_**

_"KYAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!"_

**_Plummeting,_**

**_towards what seemed to be death._**

she could barely hear herself.

**_It was quite the long way down,_**

**_though there was hardly any time for profound thoughts or realizations._**

Yes, _faintly,_ but those shrieks were high-pitched enough to be heard.

_**Was she afraid?**_

**_Was she even sane enough, at that moment, to feel fear?_**

Anything but the sound of _rapid, violent air._

_**Although her mind was overwhelmed with static-like thoughts,**_

**_in some corner of her head,_**

**_she was anticipating the end of her long descent._**

Her screams went desperate and silent halfway, her throat raw,

but she continued screaming within her mind.

**_And she wondered,_**

**_although she would not remember these thoughts later on,_**

**_whether the screams had been part of her imagination after all._**

Then, she stopped falling.

_**And before realizing it, she was already horizontal against something solid.**_

**_There should have been an impact, logically?_**

She imagined that she felt pain,

although her body was unfeeling, _and there existed only numbness._

**_But there happened nothing like that._**

**_Everything was numb, and her senses were dulled._**

Was she alive?

**_No dull thuds, cracks._**

**_No pain, no losing of consciousness._**

And if she was? Why?

**How?**

* * *

A young girl laid prone in the center of a growing crimson puddle.

Her limbs were limp and sprawled at unnatural angles, still against the harsh, jagged surface of the ground.

Her face, shadowed and unnoticed at its angle, was pale and calm. Not quite dead, but lacking the spark of emotion someone dying usually had. It seemed like the entwined shock and horror had left her visage moments before she had landed, leaving an eerie blankness.

Although unable to move, she was capable of slightly detached thoughts. Time seemed to speed by since her thoughts processed slower near death.

Blood was still leaking from her, she concluded. There was a metallic tang in her mouth too.

_Blood, _her mind supplied, and the repugnant smell of wet coins agreed. _Blood all around her, once inside her._

She never_ knew_ intimately that a human body could contain this much red fluid, although she did know of the_ fact._

Even with her limited vision from laying horizontally on the ground, most of her sights were dyed red. Especially, since her face was pressed to the grayish black ground. (She tried, but was unable to muster any strength to move her neck.)

She briefly wondered why she was still conscious. She no longer felt anything, not even the numbing sensation a few minutes ago. The stirring in her lungs had stopped a little ago along with the wet sound in her lungs. What was left was a pinched _un_feeling, where air could neither enter nor escape.

Obviously, she was not breathing. So how was she alive, _even if barely?_

As seconds ticked by without granting her an answer, not even through death, she was left with little option but to continue her observation.

(Seriously, what was wrong with her? She meant, like, she couldn't honestly be that repulsive to the reapers?)

The buildings, towering over everything else as usual, felt even more suffocating in her last moments. Perhaps she was doomed to a slow, prolonged death...

Spectators crowded around the girl, watching and inanely discussing as the girl had her life drained out slowly. The people in the crowd shuffled around, casting moving shadows all around her.

None called the ambulance, none stepped forward to help, uncaring or perhaps avoiding the fact that someone was dying right before them. She was not shocked at this, but probably a little disappointed.

Her grip on her surroundings loosened a little as faint voices reached her, a male and female's respectively. Strangely, the little sounds that buzzed in the background, such as chatters, seemed to fade as the voices began speaking.

_"Hmm... We seem to be in luck-" _The boyish voice began nonchalantly, or at least trying to sound like so, but was interrupted by his companion's enthusiasm.

_"Look look look! Look at what we've found, Mogami! Chrome's death can be avoided now! The paperwork that comes with character death and plot derailing is a disgusting amount, really!" _The higher-pitched and obviously female-sounding voice was on the other hand, filled with excitement.

Their voices seemed to become clearer the more she heard them speak.

_"Don't cut me off!"_ The male voice sounded offended, but continued a little pompously._ "I still insist that the original Dokuro wouldn't have worked out though. Without the correct flame, she's _useless_. You know, useless AND a paperwork generator?"_

_"That's too harsh! Still, this is quite a lucky catch... Now then." _The girl shivered from the foreboding sensation the voice brought on.

Her vision was already blurring, her eyelids growing heavier with each second, but she could almost be sure of the two vague, human-looking silhouettes hovering a distance above. They were quite noticeable. Neon orange and crimson red hair wasn't too inconspicuous after all...

The girl tried not to think of the implications of their sort of presence, but failed. (As in, they fly, _much?_ Obviously supernatural.)

She was dubious of the sight at first, but any theory her brain came up with had to be better than the probability of her going insane. No, this likely wasn't a hallucination of hers, and if this was, it was a little too elaborate.

At this point, she was beginning to feel a little tingly, but what topped the weirdness had to be abruptly floating upwards, and _holy shit-_ Was that her on the ground?

Yea, _floating upwards and leaving her body behind _it was.

She had to say that she -her body- was a sad sight from up here, though the blood was pretty now that she did not have to feel or smell it. She absolutely refused to ponder on her translucent 'body', and what appeared to be a tendril of... something connecting her to her physical body. No, just no.

She felt -light- for the lack of a better word, and kind of comfortable, considering how she was dead. She felt relieved of what seemed like a burden. The feeling of tranquility came easy, although there was still, a sense of dread. Rest came almost easier.

Her dark eyes began to grow lifeless, dulling the last twinkle of intelligence she had in those black orbs, and soon, she was struggling to maintain a coherence in her mind.

Her thought processes began fizzling out, and as she exhaled her last breath, she held hope of an afterlife.

Then finally, she faded into a sea of black, unknowing of anything else.

**XXXXXXX**

_White exploded everywhere in the vast blackness, eventually becoming just as endless. __And in the whiteness, her mind replayed the scenes of her 'descent into death'._

_S__he remembered the sudden blurring of her surroundings, and the feeling of gravity's pull. __She recalled losing her balance, and all too clearly, her lurching stomach and her one-second late screams._

_The girl could barely believe herself. It wasn't even as if she was clumsy, but..._ _a banana peel? Of all that she could have slipped on?_

_She could still feel herself soaring, and call to mind the merciless air that rushed past her along with its foreboding sound. She would _never_ be able to forget that._

_She had been so sure that she would have been flattened alive! __Not that she's unhappy about it being otherwise, but still, she should have died immediately._

_She had fallen off the roof of a high-rise building, and after much stalling, she had in fact, eventually died. At least, she thought so._

_Therefore, why was she still alive in this dump of... basically whiteness? _Was _she even alive?_

_The light that engulfed her surroundings now distorted her perceptions. It was a blinding white, such that dark spots were appearing in her vision._

_Was she standing on a surface, or was the surface standing on her?_

_She wouldn't have known. __Her head was a splitting pain that made it _hurt_ to even think._

_The only thing she could follow was the strong call for her to open her eyes, even though she was so sure that she had not closed them. It felt of utmost importance, so perhaps the only thing to do indeed was for her to wake up._

**XXXXXXX**

White light? _Where? _The girl could have sworn she heard voices talking about someone too, but she couldn't remember.

The pain made it unbearable to think hard on anything.

She felt the need to open her eyes but had clearly thought better than to do just that. She slowly fluttered her eyes open as if awakening from sleep, thus allowing her eyes to adjust to the light this time. HA! No pain!

Her glee quickly diminished as she landed eyes on a person, and she felt herself tense up in wary of the stranger. Her glances darted up and down several times as if to study the person.

Her first impression of the woman before her was made difficult to discern. With hair a lustrous hazel brown and her dark eyes narrowed sharply, for a moment she had thought the woman to be quite pretty, especially with all the meticulous make-up she had on.

That was, until she saw the woman's expression twist into something unflattering on any face – contempt and disgust.

"You're finally awake aren't you?!"

"How could you do this to me?! Don't you have any idea how much trouble you have caused for me?"

She berated the confused girl, whose expression quickly turned defensive and her body language guarded.

"Having one's daughter jump off the roof is a huge scandal, and for someone of my career, it's worse! Isn't it enough that you are utterly useless?! **_Why do you still have to cause trouble?!_**" The girl who was being yelled at winced at the increasing volume, and was just about to slap the self-conceited bitch for her tone before she managed to put a name to the strange feeling.

'Nagi was referring to...?' It couldn't be, but she was more convinced by the moment.

"Wasting my time like this, do you _really_ think that you're that important?"

The girl would have wrapped that sentence in gift wrappers of sarcasm and decorated it with ribbons of profanity before she returned the favor, but _oh,_ if only the enraged girl could speak then, but she couldn't.

"At least die in a fucking corner, away from prying eyes and **_not_** in school, you little ingrate!"

The girl bit her lip. She felt murderous, but the girl was too weak to move, much less subdue someone physically stronger _and_ hide the body. Nonetheless, she would have her way one day, she swore to herself.

_"NAGI! Are you even listening to your Mother?!** Show some respect!**_ _I should never have given birth to you, ingrate!"_

She closed her eyes, and tried to block out the noise... Yes... Just tune out...

Gradually, the noise became a soothing background hum, and more and more was she reluctant to open her eyes. She swore that they weighed like lead at that moment, but as her head too, grew heavier and heavier until they drooped forwards, she had to admit that exhaustion finally caught up with her.

Tuning out everything else, she- _"Wake up! I'm not done speaking!" _-fell into a deep sleep.

**XXXXXXX**

When she finally woke up, it was thankfully to _peace_ and _quiet, _much to her relief. However, the peace made her hypothesis catch up with her confused mind.

The stupid woman, whom she now knows as her _Mother_, called her **Nagi**_._

_Maybe..._

She decided to confirm her suspicions with a simple mirror. A very simple, basic mirror that _surely_ could reflect the appearance she knew as her own, right? Apparently not. Violet eyes, violet hair. Wide doe eyes... Girly and blasted innocent features... "Nagi" was definitely Chrome!

Her headache had subsided while she was asleep, so she was able to quickly remember the conversation she heard while she was dying. Something about paperwork? There were two voices, a boyish one and another higher pitched, feminine one. (_Must be angels,_ her mind sarcastically supplied, but she agreed wholeheartedly.)

Apparently, _'Chrome's death can be avoided now'_. Chrome jumped off the school roof, or so she concluded from what Chrome's Bitchy Mother said, and according to Mister and Miss Angel, she was the solution to their problems.

'Wait, if Nagi was the 'Chrome' those voices mentioned... Oh my fucking gaawwd... I can't have gone into the KHR universe right? Our personalities are so different! W-What about the plot?!' She appeared to have freaked out, but was in truth too excited for words. (She looked forward to further messing with this universe!) Then, she took a deep breath to calm herself down. For now, she would address Canon!Nagi as "Chrome". It certainly made things less confusing if people were going to address her as "Nagi".

A sudden flash of the old hag's face then reminded her of how the bitch refused to save Chrome. It gave her goosebumps, out of sheer disgust at anyone who left _family_ dying. She then decided that she'll make the same choice Nagi did if it came down to Mukuro.

Anything to get away from that hag, even if she had to deal with a pineapple.

**XXXXXXX**

It was a year since she was dropped into her favourite anime series by two unknown higher beings, and she couldn't say that she liked it a lot.

"You! Nagi, what is with your test scores?!" 'Mother' demanded. She hadn't yet got used to referring to the annoying middle-aged brat as her Mother. It didn't help that 'Mother' never really acted like a mother, but it DID help that she had no idea how a real mother acted like since hers had left ages ago back in her past life's childhood.

Therefore her first thoughts to her current Mother's accusation was,_ 'The fuck, eighty-two is not good enough for you?!'_

"You cheated didn't you?" Oh, so that was the problem.

"I didn't... _Fuck you._" She swore inaudibly. More like she hissed under her breath.

"Well, I don't really care if you did or not but since the teacher says otherwise, I warn you, _**do not get caught again.**_ You would do best not to ruin my reputation!"

Was it really that hard to believe her scores? Just because poor Chrome when she was alive was too traumatized by her dear Mother's face to study doesn't mean that 82% is impossible right? _Who was she kidding._

She sighed. When will pineapple head take her away from... this? Even though her circumstance was extremely undesirable, she knew that she had no choice but to put up with it for a few more years.

After all, she wasn't all that anxious to break away from KHR's Canon!Timeline. Not now, at least... Yeah.

**XXXXXXX**

Only years later, did she start to get used to her situation. It wasn't a great situation, but it was the only situation she was in, and accepting it (somewhat) helped her to adapt.

Years of putting up with Cinderella's stepmother -the bitchy edition- brushed up her nonexistent acting skills. Her facade of Chrome being antisocial was too convincing, even though perhaps seeming more bored and aloof than friendless and lonely. She almost felt sorry for Chrome. It must've been hell for her past years. No wonder she committed suicide.

She was the only 'Nagi' now however, and on her side of things, she grew from resenting into adoring her studies. She'd coop herself up in books with all her free time, conjuring those fantasy worlds in class one after another in her imagination. They call that, daydreaming. And yes, it helped with her studies... not.

Although it was never enough whether in her past or present life, her grades never did drop once. But that wasn't the topic either.

Books, were the only one thing Nagi appreciated her Mother for. It kept her going without snapping even once through the verbal abuse Mother gave on a daily basis, and she was thankful for it. Mother should most definitely be thankful too, since a Nagi-imitation that snapped wasn't pretty.

Mother loved showing off to her friends, and thus they had a beautiful book collection. More like, a whole room dedicated to books and bookshelves. Yes, they had a somewhat library. From mystery to horror to romance novels, the selection of books were never ending, each one enchanting in their own way. But since no one ever read the books aside from Nagi, most of them went to waste, a thick layer of dust on whichever surface was exposed. It was a shame...

In that library_,_ Nagi also found the one thing that incited her curiosity about Chrome. That one thing, was a diary and a thin, shiny piece of metal wrapped in cloth, hidden away from view. Hidden away in manga. What an odd, but sensible hiding place – her Mother certainly wouldn't chance upon this no matter the occasion.

Nagi flipped the diary open while her other hand fiddled with the metal. Chrome's diary was quite entertaining for Nagi, considering the colourful language used to describe her Mother. It certainly was unexpected, at least for an apparently submissive character such as Chrome.

_How expressive, _Nagi thought as she lazily flipped opened another page. What shocked Nagi after that, was how Chrome wrote about her dying will flames when she wasn't supposed to know about their existence. She wrote about the mysterious piece of metal that allowed her access to the "violet fire". But what was even more surprising, was that Chrome wrote about having _**volatile**_ **_violet flames._**

Violet, not indigo. Cloud, NOT Mist...Once again, Nagi thought to how Chrome jumped off the school roof. It's no wonder she tried committing suicide, suppressed to that degree for her whole life must have been painful for someone so strong-willed on the inside.

_**Clouds can never be restrained or controlled.**_

And then, she did an experiment. Holding on to the piece of metal, she tried summoning her resolve, focusing on her determination -hatred- with a glint in her eyes. With a sudden flare of weak indigo flames, illusory spiders appeared, further confirming that those are Mist flames. The spiders crept out of the room, heading to her Mother's room on Nagi's wishes.

Nagi smiled sweetly like a cat with cream, her violet eyes twinkling.

Since Clouds cannot be restrained or controlled, and Mist cannot be grasped,**_ how fitting it was for the Mist to replace the Cloud._**

_(And for once feeling special, she savored the feeling. Because, how many else ended up in their favourite anime with powers that told them they more rightfully own this life than the original, which they have replaced? _Nobody._ She could not help feeling self-satisfied.)_

* * *

**A/N: **And that's it for the first chapter!

Editing most chapters from now on, and I've quite nearly completed Chapter 8.

Reviews are motivating, thank you. (No, really. I only remembered this story when I saw the review alerts, and when I read the review, a lightbulb appeared.)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Edited edition. I revised some stuff to match my theory on how illusions actually work though. Because Nagi was a newbie, there was no way she could pull moderate stuff off.

_I don't own KHR, enjoy~_

* * *

Ring~ Her alarm went off in an incessant screeching, hurting her head the longer she stayed in bed. Nagi groaned, having little choice but to reach forward to shut the alarm up before falling back into her bed with a 'thump'.

The air was crisp that morning, sending frequent chills down her spine, and already, she was curling up in a failed attempt at seeking a warm spot. Light shone through her translucent grey curtains, giving her dimly lit room an unholy silver glow.

Was it school _already?_

She attempted to blink away her overwhelming fatigue, but tears sprang the more she blinked, and she was eventually forced to rub at her eyes to get rid of the liquid. It was hard to avoid thinking about the dark circles that were sure to form. It was her own fault for staying up to read, after all. She smashed her head into the pillow as morning-custom dictated.

Glancing at the clock, she cursed, and shot up from her bed in a rush to ready herself. She never once claimed to be a morning person.

**XXXXXXX**

She swore, the two higher beings must be punishing her insolence. Why else would her daily life be so enduring?

Whether she knew better or not, those insults from her classmates distressed her in ways unimaginable, like tiny paper-cuts in her heart accumulating until they would not stop bleeding. Taunts on the other hand, scraped fiercely on her nerves, wearing them thin until she often had to visibly restrain herself from ripping her classmates apart. Even so, the clenching of her fists and the grinding of her teeth in immense effort of _**iwillnotbreakthelaw**atleastnotnownotyet _and _dontkillthemnotallowedyetnotyet**pleasebemorepatient**_ would only be taken as yet another source of ridicule. It was truly admirable self control, that or an aversion to dead bodies, that no one died so far.

_(Because obviously, she never did quite find murder a morally disturbing act ever since those boys murdered her only real friend, a cat from her previous life, an action that had led to an enlightenment on her part. In the end, whether the lives of cats, dogs or humans, lives were of equal values – appallingly insignificant compared to one's own life. However, she never did quite get over her fear of dead bodies from that incident, humans or land mammals alike.)_

Perhaps it might be a need for stress-relief verbal punching bags, or maybe they sincerely believed that 'her' suicide-stunt was attention-seeking and despised her for it. It could even be jealousy of her nearly effortless decent grades, or plain mob mentality that caused her to be disliked for her complacent independence. Regardless of the truth, she soon learned that ignoring them and their hard work at snapping her limited patience was for the better. When unbearable, count backwards from fifty in prime numbers, or turn and leave before anyone becomes injured permanently.

Unfailingly, her books would tide her over each day. The teachers have long since given up on embarrassing her in class to prove that she 'cheated', especially since they were always the ones resuming their lessons utterly humiliated by her textbook quoted examples. _(On days when she was banned from the library, what else to do than reread the textbooks?)_ They rarely called her out for reading unrelated books in class anymore, and subsequently began a tradition of warning the new teacher against it, filling their unprejudiced heads with smears of her name. With preconceptions fed to them like this, it was of no surprise that in case of any conflict, she was automatically assumed to be the culprit. This further proved her point about not getting into trouble until whenever she encountered Mukuro.

With this firmly in mind, she stuffed her head with fantasies of what to do with those insufferable twits once 'Nagi' was officially of no more. It was truly unfortunate that they could not all go missing at once, but the things she planned to try on them sounded more than enough to make up for it.

* * *

The azure sky was dotted with barely a few clouds that day, which meant that the sun had full reins to poison Nagi to death. Her naturally fair skin _burned_ under the sun, and clear sweat beads emerged and rolled down from her forehead with each laborious step she took, her legs weighed down by the way-too-many books in her school backpack.

Nagi wanted, _needed _to get indoors, but she couldn't bring herself to head home. She took her time to stroll back home from school, taking the longest way possible, desperately wishing for time to pass so she could avoid seeing her "Father". She cursed and swore the whole way to get the image of a giggly and chatty and _fangirling_ Mother out of her head. Why was she so freaking cheerful when talking about him and only his... uh appearance? Mother was even all smug and excited about his homecoming! Disgusting motherfuckers. Wait, disgusting mother..._what? _Nononope, she wasn't going there. _Ewww._

Her chain of profanities was later interrupted by a soft meow. _A cat? _She almost stepped on the cute and petite creature when she saw its eyes, forgetting to stop her feet before staring, only managing that after nearly stumbling over the cat. Slit and ruby-coloured, its eyes drew her in with little difficulty, playing on her fascination with exotic eye colours, and her reluctant attachment to cats.

Silky, pure black fur, accentuating its inborn grace and deadly elegance, both of which constantly demonstrated with its every step, every pounce. Wild cats were natural predators, and she had found herself distinctly admiring of that fact since forever. She wondered briefly, if she would be allowed to keep the cat if she were to successfully convince it to come home with her.

There and then however, Nagi remembered about how Chrome was supposed to get run over by a car _to save a cat._ She cringed at the metal image of her squashed organs, but remembering that it had been how Chrome met Mukuro and escaped her uncaring Mother, she able to throw her disturbing thoughts away. _Who the hell cares about organs~_

She tried to radiate harmlessness, careful not to startle the cat as she inched forward. Its curious eyes followed her right hand as it reached out, neither fleeing nor resisting, though it let out a cautious hiss when she began stroking its back gently. She wasn't sure if the cat was going to start trusting her anytime soon, but she continued stroking its soft, jet-black fur, untainted by other colours. After a while, it let down its guard, softly purring as she scratched behind its ears.

'So cuuuute~!' She almost squealed, barely resisting the urge to squeeze the cat to death. She was in awe with the cat – its fur a smooth coat of darkness, its eyes the colour of blood rust, suspicious of strangers yet ridiculously docile in kind hands.

Her soothing strokes slowed as the glint in her eyes turned contemplative, eliciting a hiss of dissatisfaction from the cat. _She couldn't bring the home and she knew it,_ _but... __What Mother didn't know, didn't harm,_ Nagi decided.

Her mind set on that path of action, she returned to providing the cat the undistracted attention it demanded from her.

* * *

Days passed... perhaps a bit too peacefully. All seemed well, and as usual, Nagi was curled up in her favourite corner of the library, a book in her hands, reading with the assistance of adequate illumination.

She lightly stroked the sleeping cat that was curled up on a cushion beside her, careful not to disturb or awaken it. The smell of coffee permeated her cozy little haven of books, and chewing on a piece of candy, Nagi could not help but think that the situation could not get better.

Things seemed nearly perfect, but happiness was frequently short lived when her Mother was at home...

"Nagi! Get your ass down here RIGHT NOW!" Mother sceeched, her voice sharp and grating as it pierced through the low-grade soundproofing all the way to the library. Nagi blanched at the unfortunately familiar voice, unwilling to accept that she had just been robbed of her hard-earned respite so easily.

In short, abrupt movements, she stood up and put her book down, her visage showing a comical, frozen denial. Nagi could faintly hear the shrilled voice ranting at her from down in the living room, and inwardly winced at some of the more creative insults and derogatory terms.

_She is improving in her insults, finally..._

That thought made her break out in a rueful grin. She truly did not feel like dealing with Mother right now, but she did not have a choice. Grudgingly, she left her paradise of books, eyes lingering but adamant on avoiding the sight of her unfinished cup of coffee. _By the time she could return to this place undisturbed, the coffee would most likely have turned cold._

Laying eyes on the small creature, her gaze softened. She had unwittingly grown attached to this animal, whom she had already determined would become the cause of her second death. Whatever should she do?

Turning away, she began heading down to the living room, slightly curious about whatever got Mother so riled up now that she was finished mourning the loss of her short repose. Mother had always been easily agitated, but this time she sounded like she needed a good lay. Then remembering what happened each time Father returned home, she shuddered in disgust. Scratch that, they should get better soundproofing before doing anything.

_"-been stealing haven't you?!" _Stealing?

_"That piece of metal..." _Nagi frowned, stopping herself halfway on the wooden steps, where she could hear Mother rant at her without being seen. Which piece of metal?

_"-dare you insult me?! To write down such... such disrespectful things about me with such a colourful vocabulary...! You're living in MY house, living on MY money, so HOW DARE YOU?! Son of a-" _Oh fucking no, she must have found Chrome's diary. Shit.

Nagi knew it, she should have returned the items to the manga and shoved the book back in the shelf... Curse her laziness! Mother must have been snooping around in her room if she found Chrome's diary and the piece of metal. It was hidden UNDER her bed for goodness's sake!

* * *

After Mother confiscated her beloved flame-conducting metal and Chrome's 'highly decorated' diary, her hazel eyes narrowed with indignant rage, Nagi ran back to her room to frantically put up some security measures. By that time, the cat had long left the house undetected, and her beloved coffee even worse than lukewarm, but Nagi was unwavering in her claims that the cat would return.

The cat was her companion, and these types visit often... don't they? She didn't know, but she didn't want to think about it.

Nagi then forcefully led her thoughts back to thinking of security measures._ Illusory spiders?_ No, of course not. Her illusions were neither strong enough to have the freedom of movement, nor be consistently maintained in her absence. Proximity triggered ones required too much skill and delicacy, which she lacked. _What about an illusion over her door? _That... She could probably do.

She would have to try to find out. Come on, she couldn't really be abysmal in illusions, could she? She must have picked _something _up from all the KHR fanfics she had read in the past! There was no way she could fail!

And if Mother became distressed about this, well, she deserved it for poking around and generally acting creepy and obnoxious. She must have deserved it. _A__s in, what kind of a person would look under someone else's bed for no apparent reason?_

* * *

**_A/N: _**Reviews would be highly appreciated!

Thanks for reading~


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Okay... I am extremely NOT confident about this chapter... I'd probably try to rewrite this if I knew where to start, which I don't, so should I rewrite?

T~T Kay, I have no idea, please review and tell me if Chapter Three is bad... or not? (First attempt at nightmare thingy)

_Don't own... Never will._

* * *

_A dream... She was in a dream, the first fully conscious dream she had._

_She found herself running after little black cat, following as it leaped past numerous houses, turning into yet another corner. __This one led to an alley._

_At the end of an alley was a pavement by the main road, where many cars whizzed by in a flurry. Tall skyscrapers were everywhere, making the place look a lot more modern and similar to the girl's past life than her current estate._

_Nagi got distracted for a moment, before darting her gaze back to finding the cat, only to witness it sprint across to the middle of the road. She was confused at the cat's sudden action, and didn't even move when she saw a black car head straight towards the cat, closing in on the cat like unsuspecting prey._

_Time slowed in on a particular scene. And from that moment, Nagi forgot that she was in a dream._

_The car sped through the road, running the cat over. Its tyres squashed the cat's small body into a red mess, staining the road and car tyre. __The car then stopped for a moment before speeding off again, escaping the scene like a coward. Even as the car all but flew away, Nagi's attention remained on the cat._

_Bones could be seen sticking out of her little friend in weird places, but even more prominent was the _deep crimson splattered out on the road. But_ as she watched the scene from metres distance, Nagi couldn't speak to comment on it like she usually would have._

_A splitting pain invaded her head as the particular scene replayed itself in her mind. She felt the bile rising up her throat, but she knew that it was just a reaction ingrained in her as a human._

_A familiar voice appeared, and the scene faded into a mere echo in a corner of her mind, but the pain remained. It was a painful reminder of the horror seconds ago._

_"Mogami... You didn't have to show her that! She doesn't need dreams of the possible future..."_

_"The Law stated that she doesn't have to follow the plot, but you know what happened the last story! _You know I had to-_"_

* * *

**RIIIING!** The familiar sound of her alarm shocked her awake.

Nagi had planned to sleep in for the morning, so it was already 3pm in the afternoon when her alarm rang. She could only say it was a _fucking miracle_ that her Mother hasn't thought to bother her _yet,_ though she knew better than to say it out and jinx herself.

Nagi would usually expect to find herself in a relatively pleasant (if possible) mood with extra sleep, but that morning just didn't start right. She yawned and stretched out the kinks in only her arms, too lazy to do a full stretch.

It took a while before the scenes of her nightmare replayed themselves to her, bringing back the fear and utter horror. She then took a small moment to comprehend that everything was a mere nightmare. And that was when she realized that even with understanding, the small nagging feeling telling her _it wasn't just a dream _didn't go away.

Then hearing a shrilled voice, she groaned. It was her Mother again.

"NAGI, where the fuck are you?! _Fix the damning lunch, you useless girl! _Why the fuck did I** NOT **fucking abort you?!" Mother's voice could be heard throughout the house. The woman was THAT loud.

Nagi needed more than a moment to calm down, but regardless, luck didn't spare the poor girl a single glance. _Guess fortune loves me, as usual..._

She growled. She didn't understand why she agreed to make the lunch for that goddamn bitch of a Mother.

But she could _definitely say _that the alternative of letting Mother cook... is not exactly healthy for Nagi's sanity. It wasn't that the food itself was disastrous since Nagi had never seen any before, it was more of '_the kitchen is burning!_' thing.

Nagi sighed, then got up and headed to the kitchen. She pushed away her thoughts of her dream temporarily in favour of thinking up simpler things like _how the hell is she supposed to cook. _Because when she told her Mother she would cook, she said it in desperation - she didn't know how to cook.

Nagi was always more of an consumer than a creator. Her love for food only extended to the 'eating' aspect of it.

_Though instant noodles she could do,_ she thought. Added with the touch of illusion, no one would differentiate between the noodles and the supposed lunch!

_At least not visually,_ she hoped. Her illusions weren't THAT lousy, even without flames... She hesitantly nodded to herself.

"This thing tastes kind of weird... _Are you sure you didn't poison me?!_" _Of course it tasted weird! _Spaghetti wasn't supposed to taste like instant noodles... _Ahem._

And she won't even mention that under the illusion of spaghetti, the instant noodles are... blue in colour. **COUGHCOUGH.**

Nagi tuned out the criticisms and random insults. Resting her hurting head on her palm, she shook away her remaining fear from the nightmare. Although, her uneasiness still lingered.

_It was just that... The nightmare was too realistic for her preferences...? _Nagi tried to justify her fear, but even she herself couldn't really believe her excuses.

She was disturbed and still felt uneasy, but she did her best to convince her paranoid self that it was only a dream. Only an _over realistic_ nightmare.

**_Tch, a stupid nightmare did not just scare her!_**

**_..._**

**_..._**

**_Okay, it just did._**

* * *

Taking a step out the house -not home-, Nagi decided to take a stroll like in the shows when people needed to clear their minds.

It didn't work. _It really didn't work._ The movies were a fucking lie.

She continued walking through the streets of her snobs-filled neighborhood, ignoring the odd glances people sent her as she cursed and muttered to herself.

_Fuck this... Fuck that..._

Then, throwing them an irritated glance, Nagi shoved their brains an illusion so that they'd just stop bothering her with stupid sideglances.

It appeared as if Nagi was returning home, while in actuality, she walked off to the opposite direction.

**Now to prove that the cat won't appear...**

* * *

**A/N: **Blue instant noodles... Haha? Next chapter would be the start of the whole "run over by car" situation... Ciao~

... -dashes off


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Re-rewritten version! Minor changes here and there.

Anyways... Hope you guys like it~

_Doesn't own... Never will, even in AU._

* * *

With the illusion still hiding her from gossipers, Nagi searched around town, hoping NOT to find the cat she was looking for. She strolled along aimlessly, staring at the ground and digging her nails into her palm painfully.

She inwardly cringed each time she spotted a cat (that more than often was only a random cat), and bit her lip. _Tch, I'm pathetic..._

With the gore part of her nightmare being the only memory still painfully fresh in her mind, she could only try_ -fail-_ to convince herself that the cat won't appear.

Nagi slightly quickened her pace (still staring downwards) as her mind took to an unpleasant turn, wanting to get this done and over with before her resolve fades. Her resolve which was already thinning fast.

Nagi barely registered where she was heading until she reached a foreign part of her town, which really wasn't much of a nosy neighbourhood unlike hers. She didn't remember walking anywhere remotely near the street she was currently walking in at all, but _why was she feeling a sense of deja vu?_

Nagi scrolled through her hazy memories from morning... then... afternoon, and found nothing, if not reminding herself of the clearer and more gruesome part of her memory.

She remembered nothing at all like the roads or buildings, nothing of help. It made her feel horrible.

That day, even the weather seemed to be out to get her.

Okay, the weather wasn't bad. It was just... slightly gloomy, with huge chunks of those shadowing clouds eating up the surface of the pretty azure sky. She was feeling _enough_ of the looming gloom on her own already!

She growled and muttered under her breath. _This day was definitely not going her way at all, alright..._

Vaguely, a sound of a cat's purr could be heard. Nagi clenched her fists tightly, with enough force to turn her knuckles white. _This wasn't happening... _

_Breathe in, breathe out... CALM DOWN._

Nagi gritted her teeth, and followed the subsequent meows.

When she finally caught sight of the cat, she found herself utterly lost in that unfamiliar part of town, left with no choice but to continue following the cat.

Of course she was curious too, even if she had a choice to not follow.

_'Curiosity won't kill the cat... Not on my watch.'_ She thought.

Nagi's greatest fear was that the gruesome death of the cat in her _-all too realistic-_ dream would happen for real _because of her. _She knew she would hesitate to save the cat, and she didn't want to be the cause of the cat's death since she grew fond of it.

After the nightmare, she realized that it wasn't a matter of if she wanted to get away from Mother, or if she really wanted to save the cat, or whatever reason at all. It was that she wanted reassurance that she wouldn't die, not a second time.

_The fact that Mukuro MIGHT NOT save her second life in time did NOT help with __her __fear__._ _Mukuro wasn't exactly... reassuring.  
_

It was a fact that she was traumatized by her first death ever since her reincarnation, even though she only just discovered her trauma.

She sighed... and damn it.

Nagi really had to stop thinking about stuff like these, or she was going to get old really fast... Ugh.

Banishing her thoughts, she followed the cat into a dark, narrow alley.

* * *

**_[At the end of an alley was a pavement by the main road, where many cars whizzed by in a flurry. Tall skyscrapers were everywhere, making the place look a lot more modern and similar to the girl's past life than her current estate.]_**

* * *

Buildings were everywhere around her, with roads weaving in and out between them. Tall, familiar buildings that were rarely found in her part of the neighbourhood, since most people lived in terraced houses or some other shit.

Those were skyscrapers. They surrounded her as she lived in her past life, but ignored by her even as she passed by them everyday. She never really liked those modern, meticulously designed structures in the first place. They made her feel stressed about nothing.

Those _space-wasting_ skyscrapers blocked out what remaining sunlight that passed through the grey, shadowing, _ominous _clouds, making the streets seem gloomier around her. The prospects of this affair ending well didn't look good to the troubled Nagi, especially not with the atmosphere and her thoughts burdening her mind.

She felt suffocated, strangled by a bundle of lukewarm air_._

Nagi pulled herself out of her thoughts, and directed her attention back at the cat, who-

_'Nyaahhnn~'_

-who was halfway dashing across the road, just like in her nightmare.

No. This wasn't happening, this wasn't. _Itwasnthappeningitwasnthappeningitwasntha-_

But it was, she stopped her thoughts halfway as tears overflowed. Maybe this time, she should save it...-

* * *

**_[Nagi got distracted for a moment, before darting her gaze back to finding the cat, only to witness it sprint across to the middle of the road. She was confused at the cat's sudden action, and didn't even move when she saw a black car head straight towards the cat, closing in on the cat like unsuspecting prey.]_**

* * *

-...But she didn't want to die again! _No-no, she doesn't want to d-die. SHE DOESN'T WANT TO DIE!_

Even like this she had to save the cat! Besides, Mukuro will save her, right? **_Right?!_**

"Nagi, the time has come, for a life-changing decision to be made... So, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" She told herself.

She had a few more seconds to figure this out before the car even came in fucking view, so she HAD to calm down, _not waste time panicking._

Yes, she's definitely taking the chance to get the screw out of her current life with Mother. Now if only she had reassurance that Mukuro will definitely save her... Dying a second time would just be downright fucking lame, not to mention painful.

Nagi peered at the road. Yep, the car could be seen, and it's nearing the cat at a fucking ridiculous speed THAT-IS-ILLEGAL!

It was time for a leap of faith. **_Mukuro... You better save me...!_**

"To six hells with YOLO... I'm gonna live thrice!" She sprinted forward at top speed.

The chased-after cat abruptly stopped, as if awaiting the car to spill its innards. _-Damn, that idiot-_

Nagi increased her speed while silently cursing the cat for suddenly stopping in the middle of a road.

Passersby have varied reactions as they watched the girl dash across the main road like that, putting herself in danger for a mere cat. To them, she was stupid, and she thought that she probably was, if Mukuro wasn't saving her.

It was a bet with her life, a leap of faith as she told herself.

Despite having mentally prepared herself for it, the impact left her with no time to even scream. As her eyes widened in fear, her violet pupils only dilated while her guts twisted in horror.

Then, it was a distant loud crash accompanied by an excruciating, intense, _unbearable_ pain. Blood splattered everywhere, giving out the sickly, repelling scent of blood. It created an eye-catching red spectacle for those _onlookers _-passersby-_ who never bothered to call the ambulance. _

Just like the other time, passersby became spectators, observing her body as it laid motionlessly in the growing blood puddle. A crimson puddle that ruined her clothing in the same way it had when she first died.

Whe Nagi realized it, she stopped feeling pain -anything- at her abdomen. Her consciousness was fading fast, but she still wanted to mock those gossiping spectators.

-Pitying glances, disgusted gazes, curious looks, bored faces, amused expressions-

_'They are all the same self-centered bunch even in this world. Disgusting...'_

Unlike when the cat was killed in her dream, the driver jerked to a stop and hurriedly got out the car to check on her._ 'It was because she was a human, not an 'insignificant' cat.'_

The driver then dialed the ambulance, much to her satisfaction with him looking distressed.

**As she slowly stopped smelling the metallic scent of her blood, her vision blackened and her consciousness disappeared.**

* * *

**A/N:** I think I have the next chapter half down already, but the next update would most probably be... -lemme check- at least after next Monday?

...I still can't believe I can survive exams without revising... It's just that the fanfic pull is too strong...?

Hhm... Aaa~aand so, let's meet again in the next chapter~

Ciao ciao, readers-tachi~ ^w^


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Well, don't own, and enjoy~

* * *

**_Beep... Beep... Beep..._**

A constant beeping sounded through the room, dull and slow, soothing her fraying senses. She was in a hospital...?

Her body was heavy, like it was made of lead, and numb, preventing her from feeling pain. There was a faint awareness in her mind that with how labored her breathing was, her lungs were ought to be screaming by now, but she felt nothing...

Nothing wasn't a nice feeling... it was scary, but better than pain.

Her face was fevered, flushed, evidently sick. Something in her was desperate and confused, and all she wanted was to open her eyes and _see_, but she couldn't, for she didn't know how to. In the darkness, it was quiet, and only the beeping accompanied her, grounding her weak consciousness so that it didn't lose track of itself.

Eventually, the beeping grew softer, and she began to hear a conversation between her parents.

"-Don't joke around! I'm not going to have them cut me open for that girl!"

Mother sounded flabbergasted, as if the idea of saving her biological daughter at all was ridiculous. Nagi could barely register her words, but even so-

"What are you saying?! She's your child, whom you brought with you!"

Father refused to acknowledge Nagi as his daughter, shirking his responsibilities as a legal guardian, a stepfather, but it was understandable, for he had always been distant to her.

"I never understood what that child was thinking." Mother began again, insistently pushing the blame on Nagi. "She couldn't even make friends. She didn't even grow close to you."

Eventually, she said it - the truth, her true thoughts. "It's not just me. No one really wishes for her to keep living."

Their voices were getting smaller and smaller, almost weaker than her own thoughts, too quiet to be actual voices. It was a sign that she was slipping her hold on her consciousness. "-Dear! Stop!"

"I'm busy!-" She barely heard their exchange as staying awake became a struggle, but the conversation was clear in her mind regardless. It was too clear. Too painfully clear. Nagi firmly held on to her hope that Mukuro would save her, that _someone_ would save her, because it was the only thing that convinced her not to fall asleep. She had to last until he saved her. She wanted to live.

She wanted to live...

No matter how tempting unconsciousness sounded like, she wouldn't give. She refused to give in to the pain and hurt, to the blissful calm she might have if she gave up._ 'I can't die yet... I can't let this end even if it'd be a relief...'_

Void... Inky black filled the voids of her mind, an ever expanding darkness that threatened to consume her consciousness. Even so, there was a voice, reminding her that she had to stay alive.

_'It wouldn't be a relief, you'll simply keep wandering.' _

Her head was clearing, but it wasn't fast enough... Her thoughts and past memories were in a muddle, messed up beyond comprehension._ 'Who are you?'_

_'Oya? You can hear my voice?'_

Mu... Muku... ro... Rokudo Mukuro! Her head had finally cleared enough, but she didn't even have the time to formulate a witty or snarky remark before the darkness behind her eyelids changed into something else. _Somewhere else._

"This talk was worthwhile."

In that _somewhere else,_ there was a teenager with purple hair. His pineapple-styled hair looked strangely fitting and complementing to his face, and even though it was a weird hairstyle, he pulled it off with pure charisma and confidence. Suddenly, Nagi could see the reason why Rokudo Mukuro had fangirls within the KHR fandom.

Observing_ her_ own form in the illusion world, she was disappointed with her long purple hair that now reached past her waist, for it was limp and lackluster; the complete opposite of what she remembered it to be. Not that she was supposed to be distracted by her hair like this, since she was supposed to focus on Mukuro and continue her startled act.

_Come on stutter, Nagi!_

"W-Who are you? What are you?" She noted deviously that he had a reaction to Chrome's original touch of _'What are you'_.

* * *

**Mukuro's POV**

Ever since I was hauled into that bloody hellhole of a water prison in Vindicare, I had been frequently taking strolls in his carefully constructed illusion world to prevent further insanity. If I hadn't had somewhere to escape, chronophobia would've been the least of my mental problems.

Vindicare was simply that bad. I didn't even care if it was taxing to spend long hours in his illusion or others' unsuspecting minds anymore. It was a much better option than driving oneself to insanity.

So when I felt compelled to take a stroll in my illusions that day, I didn't question it much. It wasn't that strange, since I had nothing much to do with my real body in a somewhat fish tank, but I hadn't felt such a strong pull in my guts since the completion of my six paths.

It was a relatively peaceful and pleasant stroll in others' mind, excluding the usual selfishness in humans. I was used to those, having seen much worse. Indeed, the stroll was relatively peaceful and pleasant if honestly compared to my reality.

That was why, I was rather intrigued when my surroundings changed without warning. I had half expected it when I felt the faint voice tugging at him, but was still a little surprised. Not that I would admit it.

_'I can't die yet... I can't let this end even if it'll be a relief...'_

* * *

It was more of a whim that he actually answered, perhaps slightly interested to see how things would turn out, and maybe curious to know if the owner of that voice could hear him. No one ever heard his voice through his severely weakened illusions, no thanks to the thrice-damned Vendicare, so he wasn't exactly sure what brought his curiosity on.

'It wouldn't be a relief, you'll simply keep wandering.'

Despite having kind of anticipated something, just _something_ from the other voice, he was mildly taken aback when the voice actually replied.

_'Who are you?'_

Of course, not that he would show his surprise.

'Oya? You can hear my voice?'

No, he didn't specifically focus what little power he had to perfect his image because he was a narcissist. He wasn't a narcissist, nope.

Even though his voice was a weak illusion, it was such an impeccable illusion with all the fine details that it clearly conveyed his curiosity and amusement, or even interest. His interest in the one who could hear him, led him to pull the stranger's mind into his illusion world.

It was still a mystery to him just how she managed to HEAR him, but he decided that he would figure it out later on.

"This talk was worthwhile." He said as his form in the illusion world took on a semblance of reality, so that he wouldn't scare the other person with his previous translucency. (He had to conserve power in some way...)

It seemed like his efforts were somewhat futile, as the voice -the girl- seemed to be startled regardless.

"W-Who are you? What are you?" She stuttered, and he could finally hear her voice as something other than vague telepathy speak. His smiling face refused to twitch, but _'What are you'_ was a little mean... What do you mean? No, he was not sulking. Hell not.

Mukuro scanned the girl's appearance, and remarked that one of her eyes was bandaged, leaving only one of the two wide, 'innocent' violet orbs for clear view.

Judging by her sickly pale skin and her thin limbs, it wasn't an exaggeration if he said that she was barely alive. But 'barely alive' was doing so much better than many others that he would've envied her if not for her actual situation - a critical lack of important organs.

Despite that only one of her eyes could be seen, he read that she wasn't as innocent as her deceiving appearance suggested. She was cynical and suspicious, seeming to have seen more than a life's worth of experiences. Ah, a pun.

Though she had her guard up when speaking to him, she didn't show it and he wouldn't have known if he hadn't recognized a little of himself in her. He smiled knowingly, a deceiving, attractive smile to those who didn't know better. As expected, her eye twinkled in a way that said she believed nothing but was willing to play along.

"You and I may be alike." More than he knew.

It was that fateful moment with the gentle breeze brushing past them, that Mukuro found himself caught up in the atmosphere, asking the violet-haired girl a question which would change both their lifes for the better.

_"Will you make a contract with me and become my vessal, Nagi?"_

* * *

_"I, Nagi Kashiwagi, acknowledge the contract with Rokudo Mukuro-sama as valid and negotiable."_

Pain exploded in her blind, bandaged eye, connecting her to him as his soft, purple flames lit something within her right eye. She had no doubts, that when she awoke, her right eye would no longer be hidden from light.

She knew, and had faith, and thus it would happen.

* * *

**A/N: **Review, please~

Other than the dialogues, I changed a lot a lot in this chapter because I felt it was crappy.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Another edit, since I finaally got into writing this again. Mostly, I explained a little on why she could see.

_Remember, I don't own._

* * *

_"-a miracle..."_

Nagi could faintly hear voices as she faded in and out of consciousness. The voices overlapped with some sort of a rhythmic beeping sound, but she didn't take notice of it, not even conscious enough for her to hear it.

_"...still alive?"_ She couldn't help but note the disappointed tone. _"-a fucking idiot..." "...worthless." "What a waste of time..."_

Nagi was exhausted, but a familiar and detested voice prevented her from falling back to sleep. It was an ugly, high-pitched voice, that belonged to a woman no longer her Mother, just her maternal DNA contributor.

Her head was still muddled from inactivity, craving silence. She needed to obliterate whatever or whoever was causing these noises, but was too sleepy to get up. She just desired peace and a moment of silence... and sleep.

When the ugly, high-pitched voice filled with insults and demeans finally started to recede, her head was clear and alert enough to know that she couldn't return to her sleep. Nagi therefore forced her eyes open, bringing moisture to her eyes as they adjusted to the light. Her throat croaked as she thought aloud, "I'm... alive?"

When the noises were gone along with sounds of high heels stomping away, Nagi at last registered the constant beeping. She thought that she must have really been out of it if the first thing she have had the pleasure of hearing was NOT the annoying beeping.

It had been and still was a repetitive sound, making her fingers twitch repeatedly in annoyance. It was irritating as it interfered with her wish of absolute silence, but she supposed she could tolerate it for a while. Her only comfort was that she wasn't staying in the room for long, since she would no doubt destroy the machine that gave out those persistent beeping.

Dismissing her new-found dislike, Nagi jerked forward, swinging herself up to a sitting position. She looked around, and noticed that she was in a very basic hospital room, seeming to have gotten out of the ICU. Similar to the last time she woke up in a hospital, everything was white sans the flowers in a plain vase. The bloody red was unsurprisingly easy on her eyes, contrasting with the distasteful dull white.

There weren't any personal belongings, cards, or visitors, but that had obviously been because no one would've cared if she had died. Her classmates would only have moved on to another target and subjected them to bullying, hopefully this time the victim could teach them a bloody lesson. -literally-

Her maternal DNA contributor had visited, judging from the things she had heard in her sleep, but it hadn't been a visit out of concern or anything remotely similar. And that was all who bothered. No one else.

She let out a little noise of distaste, and carefully removed any tubes or whatever hospital stuffs off her, taking particular satisfaction pulling off the eye patch on her right eye. Blinking, she allowed her right eye to get used to the light, and found that courtesy to Mukuro, it was functioning nicely like before. She mentally gave thanks to him, knowing that he could hear her.

Standing up slowly to avoid possible cramps, she stretched out her joints, feeling and hearing them crack from stiffness. It felt satisfying. Extremely.

With a few more steps, Nagi yawned, and stepped into the bathroom to freshen up. Cold water splashing into her face sounded heavenly to her. Only a single step into the bathroom before a bloodcurdling scream was let out.

Weirdly, no one was alarmed even though the room's soundproofing was nonexistent. Nagi didn't question why no one came running, too stunned to react immediately.

Staring at the mirror in horror, it took her a few seconds before the obvious dawned on her. A dark scowl crossed her face, marring her previous gratitude with anger.

**"Mukuro_-sama_."**

The edges of the poor mirror cracked visibly at her expression, affected by the dangerous aura she was radiating. From the undamaged part of the mirror, her enraged face could be seen reflected. Despite how entertaining her distorted expression could have been, her attention was silently focused on her hair. Specifically, _the hairstyle._

The long, silky violet strands she came to know as her hair appeared shortened and tied up to form a short, spiky 'ponytail'. It matched Mukuro's pineapple hairstyle, and she refused to look like that. However, it was not just the fact that it matched Mukuro, but that she had always wanted long hair even in her previous life and had not had the privilege to grow it out. She had once resented her past life's father for that exact reason.

Nagi knew that her hairstyle was a mere illusion, but remained pissed that Mukuro didn't tell her beforehand.

**_She didn't need to deal with this when she just woke up to insults, damn it!_**

_"Kufufu... Nagi, you shouldn't be so angry. I let you have a hairstyle that matched me only because you will need to represent me as my vessel."_ Nagi gritted her teeth, and decided to compromise a little.

"Kuromu Dokuro." She stated plainly.

_"...what?"_

"Kuromu Dokuro is an anagram of Rokudo Mukuro. Would that be appropriate for your vessel? **Now, Mukuro-sama, remove the illusion...**"

She didn't want to have the same name as the one she replaced, but at least Kuromu and Chrome had different spelling. And that the name sounded cool...but that was not the point.

_"Yes, that would be nice but-"_ Before he could protest that the pineapple hairstyle looked cute on Kuromu, she cut him off with a roar.

**"REMOVE the goddamned illusion! Like, NOW!"**

The illusion immediately disappeared, returning her hair back to its original state with long violet strands reaching her waist. He then wisely shut his trap, letting her cool down before trying anything. _Stress did wonders on Kuromu's scariness, really. _Mukuro's instant reaction calmed Kuromu down considerably, significantly lightening the atmosphere into one suitable for a _peaceful_conversation. She then brushed her bangs to the right, and sighed as if reaching a conclusion.

"Fine... If you so insist, I will put on the illusion of that pineapple hair-" The illusory presence was hopeful but dubious. "Wait! I'm not done."

Only when she hurriedly added her opinion, that Mukuro seemed convinced. "That is only when I am representing you or other forementioned exceptions, alright? In return, I shall be given the right to call you 'Mukuro' without the honorific!"

She said, because she really did not want to sound like Chrome... The 'Mukuro-sama' part was one of the parts she really disliked about the Canon!Chrome.

Sounding amused, he replied, _"Kufufufu... You're turning out to be more entertaining than I thought... That's fine, I agree to your conditions, Kuromu. Provided, you don the Kokuyo Female Uniform on those specified occasions you referred to."_

_"_Of course~ Mukuro." Inwardly, she was celebrating, but accidentally let slip her smugness on her visage. "Mukuro Mukuro Mukuro!"

She repeated his name in childish glee. Victory!

_"Now, I would like you to meet my other subordinates in Kokuyo. Kufufufu..." _He found it funny, Kuromu noted, frowning a little. _"Seek them out and introduce yourself. Be sure to get a map... Kufufufufu..."_

Yep, he found it funn- WAIT. What?! Nagi was flabbergasted. How in themother of pineapples did he know that she was bad with directions?

She hissed, not all that threatening as she meant it to be.

Well, seems like this trip would be enjoyable... Be warned, Doggy and Chikusa!

Now, time to start her new life~

* * *

When Kuromu thought of "starting a new life", she did not expect literally having to forge her own death certificate with illusions. Well, the real "Nagi" -Chrome- had already been dead long since the suicide attempt...

It took minutes of scrutinizing before she was sure no civilian would be capable of seeing through her flame-less illusion, since she was paranoid that way. Afterwards, she used up what little savings she had, only to buy an apple- _She wanted a pineapple!_ -plus a stupid train ticket to Kokuyo. Even then, she had to conjure an illusion of a bus ticket just to get to the damn Kokuyo Street.

Kuromu cursed at Mukuro the entire way, and shouted profanities the moment she stepped out of the bus. She honestly lost her way like he knew she would!

It was frustrating, and not to say infuriating that he was right about her. The map was no use either ways, since it belonged in decades before. _Damn pineapple fairy..._

Nagi walked and walked and walked until her leg was sore. Looking around at the remote area she was in, she figured that she wasn't anywhere near the Kokuyo shopping district. That was her conclusion because she saw nothing alive besides plants and animals in that area. The ground she was stepping on was clearly not counted as a "street". Which meant that with where she was, she would probably reach either the Kokuyo Junior High, or Kokuyo Land. Or at least, she fervently hoped she would.

She limped the rest of the way, until she almost passed Kokuyo Land. She went in, wanting nothing more than a place to rest and a place for her to _stop moving in general._ That's when she threw her worn out shoes into the f*cking theater.

Nagi sat on the abandoned grounds, legs up, and curled her head into folded arms.

Let her rest... She had no money so she definitely needed the energy to conjure illusions...

(No, that wasn't illegal. The law said nothing about illusory money!)


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** For the dream/memory, I took most of it from one of my acceptable essays... Well, can't blame me for wanting to reuse homework! Homework, though...

_I don't own KHR,_ but everything else that you** can't** recognize, I do own.

* * *

_In a hazy state of mind, she found her existence seeping into a past memory... Another dream...?_

_She hovered above the memory as it played out, vague silhouettes overlapping one another. Could she have forgotten? She knew the girl ahead as her past life, but why couldn't she remember what she looked like?_

_Trailing after the figure, she pulled on the muddled threads in her bundle of memories, before the scenario changed significantly. She felt a tug on her existence, before she now occupied the girl's space, losing her hold on reality to take the girl's place..._

_I opened the door and she was just sitting there, arms folded, features contorting into a dark scowl as I entered the living room. I trembled, fingers tightening on the door knob almost desperately as I pulled the wooden door close cautiously, and winced when the door creaked. Biting my lip, I eyed my mother worriedly, fearing for the worst._

_As Mother abruptly whipped her head around to glare at me, I jumped in fright, nervously retreating a few steps._

_"So you finally decided to return home, Lily." Her voice was laced with anger, making me grimace as I was painfully reminded of the curfew I broke. A displeased furrow between her brows complemented the stern expression on her visage, intimidating me into breaking the silence._

_Stammering out my pathetic excuses, I was rewarded with an icy stare and an equally piercing reply, "Is that so?"_

_To my surprise, Mother did not reprimand me or speak any further, merely sighing, a disappointed frown on her weary face. My heart clenched, guilt twisting into my guts instead of relief._

_I parted my lips to speak again, but soundlessly closed my mouth again. An apology felt awkward on tongue._

_'I should have kept watch on the time…' My thoughts trailed off, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. I was sorely tempted to escape the situation altogether by retreating into the confines of my room, but it felt unwise to simply leave without doing anything. There had to be a way to salvage this situation._

_I gulped. 'She's my mother after all, and she does deserve an apology from me,' I tried to convince myself, taking a hesitant step forward._

_Fidgeting, I mentally encouraged myself to swallow my strange pride and apologise. It could not be too difficult to say 'sorry'. I choked on my attempt, flushing red as I tried harder to form a coherent apology._

_"I'm sorry, Mother…" My voice faded near the end, but at least I did not stutter. Peeking out under my eyes to catch any reaction from her, I found myself staring straight into her exhausted eyes, a dull shade of [?] similar to mine. (What was this? I couldn't tell the colour... of...?)_

_She sighed, as if she truly did not know what to do with me. I instantly regretted my actions, while a small, wilful part of me continued to protest that I did nothing wrong._

_I squashed the evil voice in my head, and silently promised to never lose track of time again. It had not been pleasant to face my mother's disappointment in me. That had done much greater damage to me than Mother's cold fury ever would._

* * *

The idea swam in Kuromu's muddled mind as she felt her thoughts regain its separate will from Lily's. To have experienced her past life again confused her, and she had to remind herself that she was Kuromu Dokuro currently.

She sorted her mind out a little more, before she was forced to wake up to two startled and suspicion filled faces. _Familiar… faces…?_

She grunted and sighed. "You guys are Ken and Chikusa right?" They nodded, and disappointment became evident on her features.

She so wanted to surprise them with a badass entrance… She thought dejectedly. Was that what the dream was about? Losing track of time due to sleep?_ During sleep?_

Regardless, it had been too late. Memory-trip not helping here...

Running a hand through her tangled locks, she frowned, before attempting to speak. She parted her lips and froze, quickly formulating what to say.

"Who the hell are you?! What are you doing here -byon?" Ken growled, narrowing his eyes threateningly.

"Ken, don't just bare your fangs like that. Mukuro-sama might have sent her." Chikusa said, albeit on guard too.

As the two began bickering, although it was one-sided from the blonde, Kuromu thought that self-introduction might have just gotten a tad too troublesome. She brushed her bangs aside, and began speaking.

"I am-" She was interrupted by a yell from Ken. She hissed, displeased. That was seriously rude.

Taking comfort in clenching down on a fistful of her clothes, she focused her dissatisfaction on the creases by her fingers. She counted down from ten as the school counselor once needlessly advised.

"Shut up, Kakipi! I shouldn't have to listen to you! That ugly girl is probably-"

"I came here on behalf of that pineapple, so would you two please cease your lovers' quarrel?" She stated icily, fury lacing her crisp clear voice. "Yes, now sit!"

Honestly, the imbecile... To have sent her here knowing full well how that animal is without him!

She then stood, and shakily stepped out. "I'll get some food before I explain anything to you guys."

Leaving the two behind, more confused than otherwise, she went out for food. Most importantly, she needed time to convince Mukuro to get his ass here.

Convincing the two probably took more than words, with how jaded they are. Their experiences, she would most likely never be able to understand fully. (Added to the fact that Ken is somewhat slow in comprehension...)

Now, she needed food. In her defense, she was fresh out of hospital, not yet recovered!

* * *

**A/N: **I feel my inspiration dying... Someone help.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** WOWOWOW! The longest chapter I've ever written! 5.5k... *eyes sparkle in amazement*

_Don't own, except anything you don't recognize!_

* * *

Trudging to the entrance of Kokuyo Land, Kuromu grumbled a little under her breath. Both her hands were occupied by plastic bags, one of which containing their lunch, and in the other packets and packets of instant noodles. (Planning for the future of course, she reasoned, as they couldn't always find money for takeaway. Illusions don't work forever.)

Those thoughts served as distraction, though navigation within the school remained successful. It had been depressing, looking around the abandoned place and inhaling its stale air, but before long, she reached the only relatively unharmed of the staircases.

Kuromu dragged herself up the stairs, scowling as she realized that she was the only one with any inkling of what a stove was. She would have to cook, it looks like. However horrifying her results were, she trusted them to still be somewhat edible, albeit unhealthy, unlike whatever concoction the other two might possibly cook up.

Ken and Chikusa would have to endure her non-existent cooking skills then, since it simply would not do for them to die of starvation. It's not like they could cook... Could they?

Another step up. She shook her head and forcefully perished that thought. At least for that day, they would be eating actual ready-made food. She should just be glad for that.

A few steps further, she encouraged herself.

Striding up the last few steps, she yelled for the two problematic children to get to the only habitable room. The one with the couch. Oh yes.

Then, remembering to turn right, she reached the theatre. She noted with hypocritical irritation that the door was left open. _Irresponsible brats. _(She really was not much better…)

Kuromu stepped into the dusty and unused room, empty of most facilities, and found herself looking at the expected accommodations. She was however, nonplussed to see that the sofa was a ragged and worn, even though she knew that she should not have been surprised. It was sanitary enough, provided, but it didn't look very comfortable. Regardless, she reasoned that it had to be better than the filthy, uninviting ground.

Ignoring her doubts, she dropped herself onto the sofa and reluctantly admitted that it was… _somewhat cosy. _With a contented sigh, she relaxed, allowing herself to unwind, to roll her neck and stretch out the numerous cricks in it. The tension dissipated from her shoulders, and she felt lethargic enough to curl up and sleep.

But as fate would have it, a familiar tingle went up her spine. A vein twitched under her skin, foreboding the immense dissatisfaction she was sure to feel after interacting with that person. Her eyes shuttered close in frustration, and she let out a displeased huff. She couldn't even rest in peace.

"Mukuro... What do you want..." She thought with mild resentment undirected at anyone, her eyes tearing open to see Mukuro's solid, opaque, and very real person. Indigo hair and the correct shade and all.

Impressively detailed and very realistic, she conceded jealously as his skills were top notch even halfway to recovery. It seemed like he had rested enough to satisfy his narcissism.

(Though she did not comment on it, both of them understood that this wasn't as effortless as Mukuro would like to pretend. It was nice to see him again though, in reality, not as an unwelcomed visitor in her dreams.)

"Why, Kuromu, no 'hello' or 'how are you' to me? Kufufufu… Terribly rude of you towards someone who came to help, you know..." He drawled in barely concealed enthusiasm, and she had to wonder if Vindice drove him crazier than he was before with boredom.

She felt a deep twinge of annoyance after registering his words, but ignored it with practised ease. How she had grown used to him so soon, she didn't know. Side effect of knowing all about him from beyond the computer screen so long ago maybe?_  
_  
At the current moment, he did not look like he was done speaking. In fact, he seemed extra chatty today. One truly had to wonder about his positive mood… What was the rare occasion?

Only paying half attention to his words, Kuromu admired her most recent fascination from amongst her mass of stolen goods. Her first plunder off the streets! Or actually, _her first haul at all!  
_  
She tapped her lean fingers against the watch and filed his inane (according to her) words away, pushing down a self-satisfied smile. It was nearly three in the afternoon, according to her fantabulous new watch. _No way she had crooned over it!_

She was just… just exceedingly proud of herself for a well-done theft... Or so she told herself.

The poor random passerby, his watch replaced by an illusory one that was stuck showing one o'clock, but it really wasn't her fault that she had yet to advance into illusions that were both self sustaining and have the freedom of movement. It had been either one or the other, an improvement to be honest, so she chose the one that lasted longer — the one frozen in place, never ticking as it should. She had already used up most of her energy when she, with the mentality of 'better safe than sorry', attempted overlapping the once separate illusions of sight and touch.

She tuned back into Mukuro's rambling. (In her opinion, yes, rambling nonsense and 'rhetorical questions'.)

"Kufufu… fu…? I could take your place for a moment to convince them of course, but I am sure you'll just refuse... I don't honestly feel like becoming hated for a suggestion..." He muttered to himself. That he had barely just recovered enough to take control of a vessel for a few minutes was left unsaid. He blinked thoughtfully, almost calculating as if something of interest occurred to him, but resumed speaking before she took any notice. "If you haven't realized, Ken would be troublesome due to his stubborn plus paranoid streak, and I _highly doubt_ you could deal with him without my assistance."

Her blood boiled at his attitude, a dark and malicious flash lighting her twin orbs into a luminescent purple. Her features distorted into wilful rage, and without further thought, she broke his illusory nose, temporarily relieving herself of many other violent thoughts.

(Oh, how great it was to punch him, solid and all. Whether he even felt the pain was of no matter, as it was highly gratifying to feel the crunch of his 'nose' breaking.)

She smiled unpleasantly, venom dripping off the edges. (Secretly, her fury already wore off.)

She could handle this! The nerve of that pineapple abomination, to try 'bestowing' his _greatly appreciated_ help after she had already decided to do things herself, and to _**dare**_ suggest that she was not capable of handling Ken!

Oh, she knew already! Ken was a handful and more, she even experienced that _firsthand!_ Did he think she was slow to catch on? _**Or something?!**_

That arrogant prick! He was even more of an asshole than usual. _How was it that he could snap her control with merely the tone of his-_ Her eyes widened with realization, and her lips twisted with indignity as she processed her peculiar reactions.

In hindsight hundred-percent, she had been quick to anger, not to mention her rage unfounded and somewhat unreasonable. She wouldn't have snapped this unnaturally if the situation occurred on a usual day... She would have been nothing more than annoyed! Was the musing expression on his face just now…? He was testing a theory out?!

Sonnovabitch!

Her mental tirade abruptly ended at the idea of Mukuro riling her up on purpose or influencing her mood with mental manipulation, almost giving herself whiplash from the sudden silence in her mind. _Oh my,_ she grimaced, _damn you to hel- to heaven, Mukuro!_

She breathed in and out, in a vain attempt of regaining mood stability. She was not going to drive herself up the wall because of him, definitely no.

But how? _When had he recovered enough?_ _Was it possible for **her?!** How how **how?**_

Curiosity coursed through her, the thirst for answers inciting another wave of frenzied, jumbled thoughts. Noticing this, she inhaled a sharp breath, anxiously forcing her thoughts away from cross-examining Mukuro this instant. Calm down, Kuromu.

Right. _Use common sense!_

It must have been because of their link that he could influence her this easily! That's right, yes. _Just _stop _thinking about it, Kuromu,_ she told herself.

Though she coerced a U-turn from the incessant theories flooding her mind, this issue was not over. She would have a talk with Mukuro about this ability and his allowed uses of it soon enough. For now, she had an urgent situation to settle and much doubts to vanquish.

She reasoned that even though Chikusa and Ken were Mukuro's minions much like herself, (she wrinkled her nose in distaste at that) the two became her responsibility the moment she laid eyes on them. _Oh,_ she began melodramatically, _their distrustful expressions, their jaded gazes, wary and unsuited for their tender ages!_ She would change that, pull them out of their shells, and tear their lives into one worth living! Mukuro would do well to respect that, yes.

She would preferably start by teaching them manners, though she herself lost much of that to begin with. Speaking of which, Ken really should pick up his jaw. Gaping was unbecoming!

The two mostly likely saw her punching their most respected bluenette in his face, she gathered from Ken's expression, though Chikusa still didn't react much.

"Come on now, why are you two still standing around? Your master has no use for statues your know."

Toying with a stray strand of violet hair, she gestured for them to sit in a lackadaisical manner, inwardly smirking when it did not fail to make Ken bristle. When they did not comply immediately however, she scowled, ticked at them for ignoring her instruction.

She was already pissed at Mukuro, and in no way could she tolerate insolence after that. Especially not now.

She snarled impatiently, biting back unnecessarily harsh words, before barked out an order in what she thought was a measured tone. "Sit, the two of you!" Although reluctant, they quickly shuffled to the other side of the sofa, far away from her.

There was a pregnant pause, where each of them bored holes into one another, and it was only broken when Kuromu faked a cough, hiding a grimace. She valued silence of sorts, but that was awkward. "Right..." She began. "So... As you have seen," She dismissively gestured to Mukuro, flushing when he mockingly waved at her. "this pineapple idiot here is Mukuro... His illusion, at least."

"This is enough proof that I'm not an imposter, a spy, an intruder or anything bad, right? I mean, the asshole is making me do this on purpose you know... He could have just told you about me and set up a secret code or something from the start instead of allowing this mess."

She descended into muttering swear words near the end, glaring daggers at the smirking illusion. She gave him a rude one-finger salute when he snickered at her choice words.

Ken eyed the girl distrustfully, though his doubt was already dissipating. "As you've said, that's an illusion, pyon! How should I know if that isn't yours?!" He protested meaninglessly, having never seen another illusionist before, therefore having zero basis to judge.

"Are you kidding?! Just look!" She pointed at Illusory Mukuro, her face flushed with ridicule and disbelief. "That blasted thing is all high level and everything! As much as I hate admitting this, I could _not_ have possibly woven this mother fucking intricate illusion."

She couldn't believe she just demeaned herself, even if those words were ninety-nine percent true. And they were still _so_ going to discuss his Influence (She had dubbed it as so.) later.

Ken reluctantly nodded, the expression of a petulant teenager on his face as he cautiously observed Kuromu and her reactions. The female in question deluded herself into believing that Chikusa would have rolled his eyes in an 'I told you so' if he so was able to.

She still felt like scratching her face out or tearing her hair off, but decided that she liked her face too much to actually do so.

"Sigh... Now that we have that settled… Lunch, late as it is. I bought your portions, so feel free to eat with me here." She huffed at them in exasperation, tired out from interaction. "I expect you to repay my money later, so steal, rob or whatever. Get a job maybe."

Some tension leaked out of them at the proclamation of having to return her money, although Ken still scowled and rolled his eyes in a deliberate show of distaste. There were rarely free meals without ulterior motives. Even if there _were_ such absurd things, they'd be too weirded out to eat. They didn't trust her, to be truthful. Mukuro-sama might've accepted her, but she had yet to prove herself worthy as a comrade. They doubted that she understood anyway.

Unnoticed, Illusory Mukuro faded away, the faintest hint of approval on his face. They might not be fond of his Nagi yet, but the three were off to a fair start. His minions worked together better if they got along after all, though he had better not let her hear about his using her ex-name, even mentally. "Kufufu..."

Pushing away unpleasant feelings, she riveted her eyes to the food, artificially brightening her expression, and managed to convince herself that she was brimming with anticipation.

"Now then, let's dig in!"

Her recovery was too fast to be healthy.

**XXXXXXX**

After an absolutely wonderful day of ice breaking and getting along famously, she was needless to say, exhausted. Sectioning her sleeping area off with a broken piece of chalk found lying around, she sternly forewarned the two to never cross her territory without invitation, even generously providing samples of the possible consequences. The two males were suitably terrified into submission, or at least, Ken was more wary of her now.

She might have went a little overboard with the illusions, but what could she say? That the horror was part of their training to resist illusions? Practise made perfect, at least for her illusion casting. _If they were made into practice targets, it wasn't really her fault.  
_  
And so, with a good night's sleep of Mukuro-less dreams, Kuromu woke up to a rather fresh start, the other two nowhere to be found remotely near her sights. Her sleepy amethyst eyes had drooped and darkened into ultramarine, disappointment evident within. It was a shame, as she had been hoping to try some of her newest techniques on them.

With a pleasantly sadistic mood like that in the late morning, the teenage girl decided to visit dear old Namimori.

(Kokuyo was boring anyway, dull as a zombie's sanctuary with a healthy dose of pragmatism and materialism.)

And so, stepping into the Namimori Shopping District for the first time, Kuromu disinterestedly glimpsed the pastel blue skies and puffy white clouds freely floating up above. To her frustration, her vision was mostly obscured by the blinding sun that hung above, reason being that it had been generously shooting arrows of heat and white light onto the scandalized earth below.

All in all, great weather that day, although the scorching sunlight would tend to make anyone avoid looking upwards, at all. Especially Kuromu, who might as well be a vampire with all her distaste of sunlight.

An occasional bird or two cut across the sky in a whimsical flight, fitting in perfectly as part of the scenery. Here or there they landed, pecking at something or another, but most people merely went about their way, ignoring the silhouettes of birds in their peripheral vision.

She breathed in the fresh morning air, feeling it fill her lungs pleasantly, and sighed as she exhaled. So far she had seen nothing that would turn her away, so she continued observing. She would be visiting this town quite often from now on after all.

Faded background noises of chattering filled her ears, and looking around, it seemed like the street was buzzing with a friendly awareness. Everyone seemed to recognize everyone else, perhaps because Namimori was a smaller town. They seemed comfortable, surrounded by common faces, regular occurrences.

Maybe that was why they could accept strange things easily?

It was... unnerving, but put her surprisingly at ease. Her lip uncontrollably twitched at the scolding a couple of sheepish teenagers were receiving. The old lady didn't even seem angry at the ruckus they made, merely showing fond exasperation. The kindly old woman seemed accustomed to this, so perhaps this was their wont?

So warm... She felt a strange, tender feeling flood within her, and briefly wondered if she should see the doctor. Or not.

What was this blatant sorcery?

She decidedly pushed her thoughts into a corner for later perusal, though in doubt that she would remember to examine them. She briefly worried about the cobwebs which were sure to form in that corner of her mindscape, but dismissed those just as quickly. It wasn't worth the trouble to ponder and hurt her little head in the morning, especially not before breakfast.

With her attention back around her, she noticed a familiar figure. Wasn't that Yamamoto Junior amongst the faceless crowd?

(At least, he looked similar, as she couldn't, for the hell of her, figure out how far did this world bore similarities to its anime counterpart.)

Surprise brightened her violet orbs, and she impulsively called out for him, waving her hands wildly to him. Enthusiasm nearly kept her bouncing on the balls of her feet, but she restrained herself into a mere face-splitting grin. If she played this right, there would be free sushi! For the sake of their health, Ken and Chikusa both ought to pray that she succeeded.

Death by unhealthy consumption of mutant instant noodles would not be a good way to go. She would know, having died twice, right?

**XXXXXXX**

In an undisturbed corner of Takesushi, Kuromu sat surrounded by two walls and a table. Before her, was a small plate of sushi, courtesy of Yamamoto's generosity.

The atmosphere seemed a little off, but she ignored it in favour of breakfast, despite the tiny noise of common sense in the back of her mind telling her to run. (The voice, in a place ridden with cobwebs and dust, was stored with everything that Kuromu did not want to think about.)

She moaned as the rich flavour of fresh sushi with homemade soy sauce spread through her mouth. Oh, which benignant power that sent her reincarnated into this world was to be thanked!

_Mmhm..._

"So, Dokuro-chan, have we met before? You seemed to recognize me just now." Yamamoto casually asked, his dark eyes a little too narrowed for it to be curiosity, alerting her to the underlying paranoia.

_Why was everyone whom she met that day suspecting the worst of her?! _Her hair stood on ends as the small voice grew louder and began viciously prodding the front of her mind.

"I apologize if I don't remember meeting you though. It seems like I don't have a good memory..." His sheepish but nonetheless charming smile afterwards instantly dispelled her rightful caution. He couldn't be possibly suspecting her, not oblivious as he was portrayed at least._  
_  
She swallowed, and greedily bit down on another piece of sushi. Not enough. Each was heavenly!

Distracted as she was, she did not discern the set in his jaws, nor how the too-casual slouch on his shoulders was seeming as though he had forced himself to relax. Unnoticed went the resolute spark in his eyes, masked by a bright close-eyed smile and a friendly tone which he questioned her with.

_She did not have the chance to come up with a lie, not yet._ Not when everything tensed suddenly.

"Yamamoto is right, where have you seen him before? I don't recognize you from around town, 'Kuromu Dokuro'." A squeaky voice confronted her. It was heavily suspicious, and had a bladed undertone to it. "Or for that matter, I don't recall that you have ever stepped foot in Namimori."

"In fact, there was never anyone officially recorded under your name. No related documents, nothing." It continued, as if to itself, but she shivered at the dangerous edge in the voice, berating herself internally for being careless. She could not even bring herself to be offended about the blatant interruption and the _'I swear you better have a damn good reason'_ threatening glare it sent her way.

'It' was Reborn.

"What are your motives?" He bluntly said, cutting straight to the point and expecting an answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was stubbornly mute.

The pause of silence stretched like a rubber band, filling with tension. _**And then, it seemed to snap.**__  
_  
His obsidian eyes glinted unnaturally, instantly dyeing the atmosphere dense with danger and dark, better-left-unfulfilled promises. His aura dripped with malice and surrounded her in forewarning, eventually becoming the focal point of her vision.

His aura, coming from such a tiny body, was an overwhelming ink black that reeked of a cold, calculating, _unemotional_ intent to destroy her. With such an aura concentrated on her, she was convinced of her impending doom.

She panicked and nearly hyperventilated, the menace so thick and suffocating that she could not breathe. _**Oh**__mukuro__**save**__me-_

She clawed desperately at her throat, a small voice commenting snarkily that she was going to get killed by an _aura_ of all things this time. And as her lungs began burning with the lack of oxygen, and her violet eyes blurred with warm tears that pricked _and grew hotter still, _she had no choice but to believe that tiny voice.

It could undoubtedly end her life a third time because _ohmy__**kami**__its__**reborn-**_**  
**  
She wheezed and she was unable to cough without choking on her near fits, the intense fear piercing through her, leaving behind holes of _**fudge**__please__**dontkillme**__yet_ and_**please**__please__**please**__istillwantto__**live!**_

Her face was frozen and distorted by terror, but within a desperate and mostly unaffected part of her mind gradually detached itself. _(The voice of reason that she had exiled, and thus unintentionally protected.)_ Keeping in mind to leave the fear-ridden part of herself behind, she escaped through the link for Mukuro.

Her mental manifestation gulped, almost back to normal aside from the frequent mental tremors. Mini earthquakes really. She was out of hysterics now that she wasn't in the presence of Reborn's pitch black and intentionally murderous aura.

Sensing that Mukuro was dead like a log within his mind, dreamless and undisturbed sleep most likely self enforced to ensure efficient recovery, she sighed. So _this_ was his secret to speedy recovery. There was only one way to catch his attention unfailingly and immediately.

'HelphelphelphelpHELP! Mukuro! MUKUROOAA!' She screamed at him from within his mind, projecting her high-pitched and frightful screeching directly into their link.

And then Reborn's killing intent seemed to disappear, as if it had never been there in the first place, or that it was blocked from her mind and senses. She let out a breath in relief, suddenly and exceptionally thankful for their link and the advantages that came with it. Maybe his ability to influence her mind and its senses wasn't that awful after all...

Seizing back control, she stilled her physical trembling and ceased the unsightly display of fear. Terror dissipated from her eyes, but they remained brightly lit with stubborn and unshed tears. An invisible layer of ice appeared to shield her twin orbs from their scrutiny before she dared relax.

In midst of clearing her mind, something most unnerving and distressing occurred to her. She dug her nails violently into her palm, perturbed by her sudden epiphany.

_If not for Mukuro and their connection...? What would..._

Her bones chilled at that thought.

Resolve flickered into existence behind her dulled orbs, unseen as they grew and grew into a brightly burning flame with her newfound realization.

She was weak.

She was weak, and it affected none other than her own chances of survival.

The will to survive steadily became the resolution to grow stronger, and her grasp on the world abruptly shifted, this time destroying her earlier childish and naive demeanor. Although jaded to an extent, she had never truly understood what it feels like to fear the end of her existence until this day.

(The first death had been something out of her control, and while she did discover a fear of death, she did not quite experience the feeling clearly. Even her most recent 'death' was rushed into with the high possibility of surviving in mind.)

Her lips pursed, and she blinked the moisture in her eyes away, her figure cutting into utmost seriousness and determination.

(Later, she would deal with this the best way she could — train and emerge to become indomitable, or wither away in the process. The relentless and merciless training might puzzle Ken and Chikusa, but she knew Mukuro would understand. _He had to._)

Unwilling to spare any more time, she decided to reassure them of the lack of her 'intentions', hesitating as she struggled for a more accurate word. "I have no... _obligations_ to answer you, but you can rest assured that I am not here to harm Tsunayoshi."

Her expression puzzling them,"You... You must have had conjectures as to the Mist guardians, yes?" Here she paused. "Think upon it... but I shall say no more."

Reborn's expression was unreadable. Yamamoto looked to be pensive, then a little guilty…? Whatever. She couldn't tell their thoughts, and had no intent or energy to try.

"Till we meet again..."

The last part was more of a whisper, thus Reborn did not seem to notice it as he furrowed his brows in deep contemplation.

She stood from the seat, feet unsteady as she trailed out of the restaurant and into the nearest alley. Her back supported against the filthy concrete wall, she glanced up at the sky visible from the gap between buildings. She really messed up didn't she? Not only did she end up speaking like Mukuro or some Chuuni-victim, she didn't get any dinner.

'I guess we are having instant noodles tonight after all...'

**XXXXXXX**

Skipping dinner, Kuromu sat on the ledge of an open window, looking out at the forest and night sky from afar. She appeared absentminded, but her thoughts were passing in lightning speed as she looked out from the classroom.

Seeing, listening... Reflecting.

It was quiet in the dark, an absolute silence undisturbed by even the occasional hoot of a hidden owl, or the faint sounds brought by a gust of wind. It was a comfortable silence.

The sky was a vast expanse of inky blue-black, the warm embers of orange light long obliterated to make way for night. A canopy of luminous stars materialized in an ocean of blackness, now that the day did not stand in their way. Some stars were dull, barely flickering into existence every now and then, but there was an adequate amount of shimmering dots to illuminate the dark, moonless night.

A breeze brushed past, too weak to affect any more than the stray strands of her hair. All else was deadly still in face of the oddly pensive night.

She sighed.

Even in her previous life, she had always been the same way, convincing herself to become satisfied with how things are even though there was always an emptiness. She tried hard to fill it up, with overreactions, with exaggerated pretensions of intense emotions and passionate ideas that were never her own. Especially, pushing away those thoughts and feelings that she did not like.

She had looked around and seen her inadequacy, but she never did admit it, seeing nothing wrong with lying to herself. Even if it was never enough to fill up and block away her sense of inferiority, she continued lying, and told herself it was enough. She had refused to put in the extra effort for anything, telling herself that what she had was good enough.

Doing just enough to get away with pretending that she amounted to more than she felt she did, and even though it's never enough to convince herself, she forced herself to feel more than she did. No, not anger, but whatever else she expected of herself. Anger came to her all too easily anyway, almost uncontrollable when triggered by the smallest details.

Even now, as she became angsty over herself, she was more furious than anything.

She should have seen this happening! Hadn't she told herself that things would be different at the start of her second life? Hadn't she became determined enough to change?!

She slapped herself when boiling hot tears began rolling down her cheeks. She did not deserve to cry. She was the one at fault, and now was not the time to cry.

Even silently, she was seething with purple rage and disappointment with herself. She was too good at seeing only the things she wanted to. This would have to be her wake up call, her metaphorical kick in the face, because fact was that she was weaker than everyone else currently, even Lambo.

And those years of an overconfident, blase attitude, of secretly hoping that she would be like one of those Mary-Sues, powerful and coveted just because she had discovered her flames early, just because she had knowledge of the 'future'... Those were fanciful notions, mere pipe dreams, and she should be embarrassed to have had even once entertained them.

(She had even expressly forbidden herself to think like a Mary-Sue, but it seemed like just once was enough for the idea to latch onto a hidden part of her mind, fastened tight.)

Mortification blazed in her, and all she could do was to claw at her arms to relief the shame, leaving red, painful streaks behind on her skin. Stuck in her own perceptions of how the world around her _should _be, she turned into the freaking _epitome_ of hypocrisy!_  
_  
To have gone so far as to presume herself capable of improving Ken and Chikusa's lives, of changing them 'for the better' as people... Her thoughts trailed off, as she was too embarrassed to continue that line. Not that she would go back on her word, because in fact, her conviction just became stronger now that she no longer saw them as a goddamned _pastime._

She would not expect them to change anymore. They were already surviving fine like that! (Well, except for the food.) Instead this time, she would get them to enjoy their lives.

But first she had to become stronger, so that they could see her as an equal to be respected. At this point, most of her problems (except their next meal) could be solved by turning into someone formidable, but that was impossible without proper guidance and much fearsome training.

"Mukuro?" Her voice came out as a croak, barely above a whisper. "Teach me, make me unbeatable..." But there was no reply, and her voice soon faded into the impalpable silence, this time broken by louder owl hoots. In the distance, a gust of wind blew scattered leaves away.

"I want to become stronger, stronger than anyone else." She stated lightly, but her conviction was firm as steel. Her voice, quiet, sounded louder than anything in this deceptive silence.

'So that nothing like this happens again, to make me fear for my life, to point out how weak I am that I could do nothing and had to be rescued... I will become stronger.' She swore wordlessly. Mukuro was aware through their link, as she had meant those thoughts to the degree of unwittingly pushing echoes through their connection.

The silence stretched into beyond the blue-black sea, and as she looked over to the sea of stars, she felt them winking back in anticipation. Nonsensical impressions, she chided herself sardonically.

After what seemed like an eternity of tranquility, he allowed her a reply. "If that is what you wish for, Kuromu..." His voice was humorless, seemingly absentminded in the lightness of his tone, but within his statement was an oath, a definite outcome.

And she smiled self deprecatingly, because if he so promised, it would happen, no matter if he had to drag her dead body all the way through seven hells just to strengthen her.

But that was a figure of speech, at least, she hoped so.

"We start after dinner…"

True, she was kind of hungry after expending all these energy to reflect on her actions.

These deep thoughts were for smart people, not her… Her stomach obediently growled in answer, crashing through the thick and melancholic silence with impeccable timing.

Really.

Mukuro softly laughed.

**A/N:** I made Yamamoto scary... Well, he'd warm up to Kuromu soon enough! Training from now on.

This chapter was meant to be lighthearted, but it spiraled out of my control...

Reviews are incentives, thank you for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Argh. I'm starting to ship Kuromu and Mukuro in this. I've finished this earlier actually, but didn't feel like this chapter was any good, so I didn't want to upload it... However, I can't possibly _keep _this forever!

Well then, happy reading! Its a little dense on my theories, so just... sorry, read slower and visualize?

Cough cough. Disclaimer is valid. (I feel my passion dying... It was only the Rebocon youtube vids that reignited my patience and love for this story for a while.)

* * *

Illusions turned out to be so much more complicated than Kuromu thought.

Firstly, only those with a wave balance dominated by Mist wave energy have the potential to become true illusionists. But even among these people, only those who could consciously or subconsciously access their flames would have been taken into consideration by other illusionists as potential apprentices.

This was because even the simplest illusion required at least two to three layers of weaving, and those that could access their flames would have been able to strengthen their illusions through the excess Mist wave energy radiating from their body. This leaking of energy simplified the process of building illusions, from 'bit by bit', into simply 'layer by layer'.

Skilled illusionists did not have to believe in their own illusions, merely having to possess a strong enough mental image during the process of weaving an illusion. However, amateurs or beginners most often have to start with convincing themselves that the imagined object was 'existing' before the illusion could ever start forming. This process would be long and arduous for inexperienced minds, for they had to not only trick their minds into believing that something supposedly non-existent was real, but deceive their life energy into assisting them with forming the illusion of that 'something'.

As a result, the effects of people with a realistic point of view on their illusions were often extreme, especially if they did not have a strong and versatile imagination. For example, when overcoming established perceptions through sheer force of will, it was possible for them to over-distort their understanding of what was real and what was not, inadvertently creating Real illusions. Of course, more likely was that these rational, unimaginative people would repeatedly fail until they eventually gave up, but the ones that persevered would have to learn at the same slow rate as the people with inaccessible Mist dominant wave energy.

This resulted in an extremely strict selection whenever any of most illusionists chose to take in an apprentice, as it was frowned upon to give up on a disciple once chosen. This was likely because the long-term process of grooming an illusionist was considered as intimate, particularly dependent on trust and understanding, leading many to take on students rather than a formal disciple.

However, having an accessible flame was not always an advantage. This was because to have access to flames, whether consciously or not, equated to an absence of the main limiters on the subject's dominant wave energy. This, as previously mentioned, allowed the subject to effortlessly radiate wave energy and use it in the forming of an illusion. Mist flames were more potent than Mist wave energy, thus were much more effective. As everything else, this was beneficial as much as it was not at times, maybe even dangerous.

For beginners, their unrefined minds could wander as they attempted the delicate art of illusion making, and at that point, their wave energy could indiscriminately encourage the illusion formed from a disrupted thought process, causing the illusion to spiral out of control. Moreover, a Mist user's wave energy often worked against himself or herself by enhancing any enemy's illusions that were in range of said energy. This meant that the average person with accessible Mist flames, illusionist or otherwise, would be more susceptible to illusions than the others.

This may be the reason why many had claimed that in a battle between fellow illusionists, having one's illusion turned against oneself was the first sign of defeat. There was logic behind the common saying.

Of course, one's own wave energy could be conditioned to never respond to foreign illusions, but it involved traumatizing the Mist conduits by means of repeated illusion poisoning and the monitored infusion of hostile Mist flames. In short, a torturous and dangerous process. A slight miscalculation could burn away the conduits, or cause the conduits to seal themselves off as a defensive measure. As the characteristics of the conduits were different for every individual, the mentor illusionist would be required to respond to the situation within his or her disciple with little prior knowledge of what might occur. Trust was greatly important, as the conduits might began reacting aggressively to the foreign flames earlier than effective if the mentor was mistrusted by the subject.

Other than that, certain gifted individuals possessed special Limiters within their channels of wave energy, allowing the amount of energy leakage to be controlled as willed. These unique Limiters were usually something they were born with in place of the usual limiters, laying dormant and only intuitively controllable until discovered and fine-tuned. The Limiters were not achievable through any form of training, but the Estraneo Famiglia was said to have accidentally discovered a method for creating artificial Limiters in a person.

Or, so Mukuro claimed, stating himself as an example, a dark expression flashing across his face.

Such was one small part of the lecture he gave her on about the theory of illusion casting, as she had fallen asleep for the rest of it. Apparently, the part she had missed was the one of a detailed theory on the construction of illusions, with explanations of the basic structure, the weaving in of details, and the method to intertwine illusions of sight, sound, touch and emotion. He later explained that Real illusions were of the highest level, a minimum requirement of creating hundred-and-over layers in a few seconds, melded together with Mist flames in order to deceive reality. Timing was_ 'crucial'_ it seemed, and Kuromu should _'do well to remember that!'_.

"Timing... Hn. What about emotion? What do you mean?" Kuromu inquired, a puzzled expression on her face.

There was a flicker of annoyance over his visage before he schooled his expression back into a patient and wise one. (A/N: All hail his patience! All hail mine too!)

Speaking slowly as if she was hard of hearing, he clarified that an illusion of emotion referred to projecting an 'impression' or 'aura' onto the illusion by capturing into several layers the illusionist's feelings and interweaving it into the final product. This influences the atmosphere around the illusion, causing those who are affected by the illusion to feel what was intended for them. For example, the emotions of hate, depending on its intensity, could either make the victim wary of going near the illusion, or terrify the victim into hyperventilation. Also, the illusionist could project the 'hate' into the victim instead of around or onto the victim, thus allowing the illusionist to temporarily direct the aggressive actions of the victim at the expense of exhausting more flames. He arrogantly claimed that although this was a higher level technique, he really did not think it was that complicated although he had to practice feeling the more positive emotions.

Blah.

Blah.

Blah.

She could barely stand lectures, being more of a reader than a listener. Long speeches actually tended to have the effect of making her either sleepy or hungry.

Her stomach then growled at this opportune timing.

See?

"Mukuro... I'm hungry..." Kuromu whined, a frown crossing her features.

Her head was swirling from the information overload, and she couldn't seem to recall one fact without mixing up the concepts. Comprehension seemed to leave her now that he stopped speaking, and all that remained was the lightness in her head and the emptiness in her stomach. Perhaps she would retain perfect understanding later, but now, before she digested the knowledge, she craved for digestion happening in her system.

Food...

Her ears rang with his hypnotic voice and the long-winded but effective explanation. Effective, most likely as in how it had fascinated her and compelled her to keep her ears on it, at least until it grew to be a little too long. There was too much information for her to remember in such a short time, and thus she only managed to absorb the part about Mist wave energy. The rest could be compared to muddied water within the banks of her mind, reflecting just how muddled her recollections of his lecture were.

She did not think it was a mistake on her part, as she had never really dealt well with verbal instructions ever since her previous life. Keeping up with Mukuro's impassioned speech for this long and this much was an achievement! She was aiming to be a combat illusionist, not an illusion theorist!

But she had been mesmerized by his words and the genuine interest within his tone as he spoke of illusions. There was a spark in his dream self's eyes, a fiery spark of passion that captivated her, and kept her listening to his words, not just hearing. She could have sworn that she spotted some resemblance of a smile whenever he thought she wasn't looking, the foreign and unguarded tilting upward of his lips. At times like this, when his face unknowingly brightened, she would force down her own puzzling contentment, but savor the moment none the same. He always caught himself just in time though, schooling his features impassive before a sincere grin could mar his image as a sociopath. Even so, she could see that he truly enjoyed the art and science of illusions, perhaps even loved it.

She briefly wondered if he was pleased or displeased to have had an easy way out forced onto him. Estraneo had been inhumane, but their end products were truly ingenious. Those artificially induced Limiters that resided within Mukuro might have made illusions simpler to the already prodigious him, but had that fact perhaps dimmed his enthusiasm? Had the knowledge of the assistance provided by those Limiters become a taint on his passion?

A pang of sympathy hit her like a ten-ton hammer, summoning a strange, distasteful feeling in the pit of her stomach. The feeling was out of her tiny comfort zone. She swallowed, her tongue tasting something bitter, but she shook her head and forcibly got rid of the mini torrent of emotions. Must've been the hunger, yes.

"Hey Mukuro, how do I get out of here?" She uncomfortably gestured around the dreamscape. "I don't think I'm in time for breakfast, and to trust the two to cook is... Just no."

He lifted an eyebrow at her, unaware of her thoughts and her true motive — escape. "You _obviously_ haven't been listening to me." He sighed, then continued, "Since we share this mindscape, _theoretically, _we hold equal control over this place. Thus, you merely have to think... Yes... Kufufufufu, imagine a way out. We'll see if you've been doing your homework obediently and practicing." He gestured towards nowhere in particular, an amused and mocking tilt to his drawl.

Kuromu flushed and sputtered at his tone, slightly angered at his teasing. She would prove that she could find a way out without his help!

Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath in (although she had no need for air) and focused on the feeling, visualizing the air as it filled her lungs. Her mind relaxed at the familiar exercise, and tenseness left her body.

Yes, she had been practicing...

She thought of nothing in particular, concentrating on her thoughts of wanting to return, and eventually, visualizing where she laid down on the couch. A vision of the doorway formed, its design surprisingly tasteful to Mukuro's eyes.

She crossed the flowery metal grate door, turning back a little just to flash him a smug look. "Bye-bee~"

She felt a wave of vertigo, and eventually, her vision dimmed into black before she could pursue a reaction from him.

* * *

Training... 15% completed.

* * *

Hope you guys like this! ^X^


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I'm dying... Oh gawd... First first person POV, how was it?

I'm a little confused about the timeline... Gah. Anyone can clarify for me at what date did the car crash happen? Or at least roughly how much time does Kuromu have until Mist ring battle?

Read and review if anyone knows the answer please... Arigatou.

I do not own anything you recognize from anything other than my fic.

* * *

"I can't forgive myself... I can't forgive that naive, self centered girl that wanted something to happen without doing anything!"

She cried out softly to herself, fury distorting her feminine features. Her voice was labored and strained, and she softly panted from the energy expended. Clear sweat beads rolled down her forehead, her face as she gave her all into the illusion, pouring all her focus and flames into it. She let not a single idle thought flash across her mind, and although she was abysmal at concentration, she forced herself to see only her feelings, her resolve.

_"I have to become stronger!"_

She screamed out with her eyes forcefully shut, verbalizing the single, most prominent emotion in her head. She wanted to be remembered as someone amazing, not die a futile death as she did the first time, achieving nothing, amounting to less than nothing.

Something in her core shifted to its rightful place as her nature, her reason for fighting was finally made clear to herself. Her mind cleared itself, and at the center of her heart, she saw a dragon, the greediest and most selfish of creatures, who fought to defend, and took what it wanted.

Indeed, first and foremost, she was fighting for none other than herself.

Like the dragon in her heart, she was selfish; she was greedy; she fought for her own desires. Those who had her loyalty, affection, or friendship, she would zealously, jealously protect, like a dragon hoarding the most precious of treasures!

(She would become strong! Strong enough to become that dragon, as her achievements would only truly become hers, if she fought for every scrap of the power she sought for.)

She was greedy, she was hypocritical, she was stupid, a glutton, and often in voluntary denial, but above all she was selfish. Like any other girl, she wanted to be happy, but unlike them, she would actively, ruthlessly pursue her definition of happiness.

But even so, precisely because of so, she would fight, with the burning desire within her heart. The desire to have, to possess, and to keep those few that were precious to her close and away from harm.

Indeed, she fought because she cared, selfishly, because it made her happy to see her friends safe and sound.

But could this be considered selfish? A pure desire to protect, only tainted by a jealous, possessive streak... Perhaps so, but she didn't care.

Ken, Chikusa, and even Mukuro had grown on her so much... Even if she was presently weaker, she would do damn best to keep them safe and well!

Her feelings...

_'I would be sad if my friends were hurt...'_

_'It would be a shame if I don't get to see this smile again...'_

_'I want to be liked...'_

Every thought, every action, every emotion seemed self-centered, yet, evidently not. She fought for those who mattered, and yet only because they mattered to her. To fight for herself was to always have a reason to fight, and right now her most prominent desire was...

_**"I want to be remembered."**_

That was why, she would become strong, strong enough to achieve great things that would be remembered even should she die. Strong enough to leave a fearsome legacy.

Nagi gritted her teeth and forced herself to go on despite her exhaustion. She would not allow herself to fail and waste Mukuro's time. She knew that it was difficult enough for him to save up his powers, and thus wasting even a minute of his lessons would be wasting his efforts. And if he ran out of power, her progress would be significantly slowed, if not halted entirely.

She narrowed her eyes and further scrunched up her face was flushed from exertion, and her flowing violet hair wet from perspiration. Even so, the fire lit in her demonic purple eyes was not extinguished, instead, it burned brighter in a display of glowing resolution.

Concentrate!

More power!

Mukuro was the greatest illusionist of this era, even if he was imprisoned in Vindicare and unconscious. With the monstrous amount of power he had generated and saved up with the help of his Eye of Six Hells, he was a fearsome foe. And with him resisting and systematically breaking down her illusions, she would stand no chance if she didn't use up every last bit of her power and concentration.

(He was not even at full power, thanks to the Vindice.)

She had to... She had to keep this illusion up... Just 4 more minutes!

"Mu... Mukuro..." She panted, taking in fresh air in heavy, desperate gulps. She was in the center of the abandoned classroom, barely holding herself up with a trident conjured up by Mukuro, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the metal pole with trembling hands. "Can I... hah... hng... collapse anytime... haah... anytime soon?"

(Damn that Mukuro for being able to spare energy to provide her with a crutch. In retrospect, she really shouldn't waste energy to talk already, but she functioned better when speaking...)

She was on the verge of tears. Her vision was beginning to blur, and her head started pounding like it was hit with a ten ton hammer, but she could not even be granted the reprieve of lying down.

(He had expressly forbidden her from lying down.)

Her whole body burned and ached with strain, and her sense of balance was askew, making her feel as if the room was spinning.

(Once again, she could hardly differentiate between up and down, vertical and horizontal. Even though it merely almost reached an hour, she felt as if she had spent an eternity training.)

"2 more minutes, Kuromu. You're nearly there, just continue as you are..." His voice barely hung at the edge of her mind, his words slow to register. Despite how close she was to completing her training exercise with Mukuro, she could not find joy, for she was too exhausted to.

Her mind blanked out, and by the time she was allowed to stop, she fell unconscious. When she awoke, she would find that she could not clearly remember the events near the end of this particular lesson. All that she was told, was that through exerting her will and flames beyond her normal limits, she had improved drastically in her illusion maintaining stamina, strength of mind, and use of dying will flames. Strength of mind referring to ability to maintain illusions through sheer will, and ability to enforce one's illusions onto a strong willed illusionist through tenacity.

Of course, her abilities were not up to par with the higher classed illusionists yet, but she was steadily improving to the point where average offensive illusionists might not be a problem. However, Kuromu continued to have problems with calm concentration, which was a huge problem, as having a blank mind or focusing entirely on one feeling or thought was inadvisable in battle. Some could pull it off, but only with extremely refined reflexes or battle instincts, and most likely physical conditioning. One did not usually find it preferable to be surprised with an attack.

All in all, remarkable progress in all the wrong order!

To make mental multitasking a second nature was one of the basics of a becoming an offensive or combat illusionist, yet her one track mind was making things so difficult...

With that said, the next step of her training would be attacking her while she maintained an illusion, but first, Kuromu had to be able to complete this exercise with ease, and Mukuro had to save up enough energy again... Sigh.

This was going too slow.

XXXXXXX

The mist was a transient, intangible thing. It could not be grasped, and thus it simply drifted, making its presence appear everywhere, yet, nowhere.

The Mist was a similar thing. Mist users were emotionally distant, much like the cloud, and yet it wasn't so much that they detested forming bonds, but that they couldn't do so, despite attempting. No one really got close to Mist users, even if they were popular, even if they were well liked. Not even friends or family got any luckier. Even Skies were not guaranteed to make their Mists open up, although pure and strong Skies had much, much, better luck. The rare, few exceptions did form strong bonds with Mists, but a Mist user would always be much more understood and welcomed with another Mist.

Eventually, despite denial or ignorance, they would see this fact, and they would have to make a choice.

A choice, between distancing themselves to avoid disappointment, or working hard to find those rare exceptions and cherishing those few and precious bonds.

Kuromu hadn't seen it yet, although she was likely clued in.

Her friends might not necessarily ever understand her, but certainly she still cared for each and every one of them... She could only hope that they cared for her too.

Perhaps, this was why her parents had never understood her, but they had taken it further into becoming uncaring about her well-being.

Mukuro had made his choice. Soon, she would have to make her own choice.

XXXXXXX

**Kuromu's POV**

The next time I was out for food, I bumped into _him_. Literally, I crashed into his chest as I walked, distracted by the colorful and intricate patterns on the tiles of the floor. They were really pretty, in my defence.

I was studying the tiles as I walked, but the next I knew was my head crashing into something hard. It didn't hurt, but the impact shocked me into backing several steps away from... whatever.

I looked up, only to be surprised further. It was Yamamoto, who despite having been so intimidating the last time we've meet, was smiling close eyed and sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yo! Nice... uh, nice seeing you again. Sorry about last time, I was kind of worked up about something..."

He sounded sincerely apologetic, and I could probably guess what exactly he was worked up about since this was only a few days after the Kokuyo arc's finish. He was likely the type that bottled feelings up, and being mostly useless probably got to him like nothing else.

Thus, the phrase 'kind of worked up' was the understatement of today. It was worse than me saying that I was only "slightly surprised" by Reborn.

My left eye twitched in annoyance, but I attempted a smile to placate him. He seemed guilty enough.

Even so, I wanted compensation for this.

"Sure... I'll accept your apology... on the condition that you treat me to a meal... For three." My voice was understandably hesitant, and my face likely even more so wary. However, just like the last time, I was desperate.

Training with Mukuro had left me with no time, and rendered my previous plans of getting a job useless. I was penniless, and no matter what Ken said about being immune from hunger, I was determined to get some proper food for them and myself. Chewing gums were never appropriate for meals, regardless of how verbal Ken was about it.

I guessed I should be lucky that Chikusa wasn't this troublesome, but having Ken around really negated my relief, for he made enough trouble for two or three.

Hopefully, I wouldn't chance upon Reborn. Hopefully, even if I did, he had came to a similar conclusion as Yamamoto.

"Sure! My Dad's restaurant is just around the corner of this street... Uh, sorry, what was your name again? I don't have a good memory, it seems..."

Again, with that oblivious act. Bad memory, my arse.

But this was an opportunity to reintroduce myself, and hopefully establish my existence as non threatening... And maybe, become friends with him.

"Oh, it's alright. My name is Kuromu Dokuro. It's nice to meet you, again, Yamamoto-san." I stumbled a little over 'again', my reactions becoming so obvious that even a seagull could recognize them.

In spite of that, he was still so... bright. And detestably cheerful.

"It's nice to meet you too, Kuromu-chan. Just call me Yamamoto, Yamamoto-san reminds me of my father."

And he smiled that shiny, friendly smile that lit up his boyishly handsome features, making me take a step back in reflex. After how he acted the last time, it was impossible for me to see his bright smiles the same way again.

I could tell that this one was genuine, but I was still on guard, understandably.

Also... Since when have I allowed him to call my name so familiarly?!

The annoyed twitching returned with a dark vengeance, but I managed a grimace. "Alright, Yamamoto... Now lead the way to Takesushi! I'm still unfamiliar with Namimori's streets, after all..." He readily led the way.

Looking up at the azure sky, I found myself dissatisfied with how things are.

_'I will, this time, become happier than anyone... Definitely.'_

* * *

**A/N: **And... that's that. What do you guys think about what I've written? Especially on Kuromu's resolve and feelings. Any suggestions for character appearances? Events you would like to happen?

I think Kuromu will become friends with Haru soon...

Now is some shameless advertising of my other story, "Parallel Lines", of Vocaloid's Synchronicity. Beautiful angst breeding grounds, so i just couldn't resist writing something... Hopefully, I can complete that story, whether the ending is happy or bittersweet.

Constructive reviews to attract my muse back, thank you. Non-constructive ones are plenty great for motivation though...


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Long ago, I told myself to write. And I did.

Then, exams approached me and seduced away my muse. Even though I had so many ideas, I avoided writing for the sake of my grades...

And now, my grades still suck, but I finally remembered to post what I wrote. I didn't bother to edit, but feel free to point flaws out in reviews. By the way, my English grades were barely above the class average. I hope it doesn't reflect on here, or I'll just jump... He..hehe...

*a lone tear slides down her cheek*

I'll go cry in a corner now.

_Don't own the anime, manga, or anything that Amano Akira has ever laid claim to._

* * *

Mukuro was worried, no matter what he told himself. Worried as in faintly creasing his illusionary eyebrows whenever his mind strayed, which shouldn't be possible unless he was subconsciously worried; worried as in this strange, inexplicable, underlying emotion that almost blasphemously felt like _concern_ of all things.

The feeling was too strange, too foreign to him, and he discovered that he really didn't like this strange twinge in his guts whenever he pondered over his student's behavior. She was determined, yes, admirably, but she was too determined to become stronger, even choosing torture over a longer time spent on training. She was rushing, and he didn't know why.

He had seen many horrors in the six paths, but at that time when she had resolutely refused to take the less painful option, the look in her eyes had scared him. He had never asked, but he suspected that her resolution was a self destructive one, almost like an overcompensation for something, as if she would never be satisfied with her achievements unless she sacrificed something -her everything- for it.

She was too hungry for strength, for power, too... desperate. She was centering her life around the intangible concept of power, but her reasoning for it was the thing that was destroying her. Even though she so desperately wished to be loved by friends and hopefully family, she too wished to be feared. Without thinking, she immediately prioritized being remembered over becoming happy, perhaps because she was afraid of another meaningless death? He wouldn't know, certainly, but this was definitely going to break her sooner or later.

It was a tragedy in the making, but so far, it had helped her become stronger at an abnormally fast rate, for her mind had decided to ignore the contradiction and focus on her resolution itself. Her resolute mindset of 'No matter what...' was enough for her, at least for now when she had not yet become too close to anyone.

This, more than a strangely strong determination, was shaping up to be an obsession — an unhealthy one at that. It could almost be described as suicidal. He could do nothing but to try and find out why, before she became half as twisted as he was.

Of course, this was not because he cared for her, he thought. He merely wanted his first disciple to be sane and last long enough to become a part of his legacy. It helped that she seemed like she could become a huge asset. He was sure that that was all.

Her resolution (distortion) was convenient for him though, for she would apparently put his life before hers in any life threatening conflict, unless of course, he interfered with either of her goals. In which case, she'd probably defy his orders or ruin his plans.

He frowned again, wondering if there was any way he could mould this to his advantage, or better yet...

...fix that girl.

"Done," he muttered to himself, a smirk stretching his face into an expression of gleeful mischief.

He signed his name on the space meant for parents or guardians, and with a flourish, completed the documents that he had spent an afternoon on. Some he had forged, others he convinced people to make legal, but now he was done with those accursed paperwork.

Perhaps this could help his star pupil stabilize herself.

Social interaction with peers was, unfortunately, a necessity for the type of Mist user Kuromu seemed to be aiming towards.

**XXXXXXX**

Pressing her face against the glass wall, said pupil widened her huge doe eyes in childish adoration, colourful sparkles dancing in her violet eyes with longing as she looked at the cat plushie.

It was fluffy... cute... and expensive. Even so, she desperately wanted it.

From outside the window, the cat plushie looked soft and huggable, its round body the colour of pure white. It had round plastic eyes that were blue as the sky, and a curled tail resting quietly on the platform in the display window. It was appealing to every last piece of her feminine side with its cuteness.

She wanted it, but the reality was a harsh, cruel and cold thing — she was jobless, penniless, and the plush toy was expensive. She bit her lower lip in conflict, unwilling to give up on the kitty.

Just then, she heard a high-pitched voice unique to teenage girls, "Hahi! The rabbit plushie is so expensive!"

It seemed like they had the same problems in life. Relatable issues in life.

Her defeated posture drew in a dark aura of depression as she mumbled, "300000 yen... Haru has been defeated..."

Kuromu studied the girl, having been struck with a strange sense of familiarity by her words. Soft chocolate brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail, the end of her hair barely touching her neck. Her fringe was brushed to either sides of her face, framing it neatly. Her eyes were the same shade of brown, sparkling with innocence and about unidentified energy.

She was wearing the school uniform of... Kuromu could not recognize it.

She was kind of pretty, but not extremely eye catching. It was the captivating sort of 'girl next door' feeling.

"Hahi! A random stranger is staring at Haru?!" She exclaimed in shock, dramatically raising her hands in front of her in a defensive guard position. She audibly inhaled, and froze in that position, staring back at Kuromu.

It took a few seconds for her words to register to Kuromu. Oops, it seemed that she had been observing for a little too long. Fortunately, Kuromu had already figured out who this 'Haru' was, mostly because of her speech habits.

It then occurred to Kuromu to apologize, or at least react."Sorry sorry, I was just wondering if you are the same as me in not having enough money to buy the things I like..."

"Eh? Haru isn't the only one? That's somewhat comforting... Haru is Miura Haru! It's fine to just call me Haru." The girl cheerfully introduced herself, her smile bright and infectious. Kuromu felt a tiny tug on her lips, enough to form a corresponding smile on her face.

"I probably should make an actual friend who isn't batshit insane." Kuromu muttered, and proceeded to introduce herself too, "I am Kuromu Dokuro, or Dokuro Kuromu in this country's language. You can call me anything! Despite my habits, I am a full blooded Japanese!"

Kuromu's stomach conveniently grumbled at this point, reminding her that she had not eaten since last night's dinner, and was supposed to be job hunting. This made her flush and add sarcastically, "A homeless, penniless Japanese middle school runaway, that is."

Thinking her words were a joke, Haru giggled. "You can't be totally out of money! How else will Kuromu-chan return home? You don't look like a Namimori citizen, certainly."

"I seriously don't have money," she deadpanned. "My home is at the Kokuyo Land, for now, but I'm looking for a job. Any recommendations?"

"A free meal for the penniless, _perhaps_?" Kuromu grumbled sarcastically under her breath, but was still heard by Haru. "I haven't had lunch after all, not even breakfast."

"That cannot do! Haru will treat you to lunch! Kuromu-chan is already so skinny, so you can't afford to skip so many meals!" Haru widened her eyes, and determinedly proclaimed. Like a whirlwind, she dragged Kuromu to the nearby restaurant, which happened to be... Takesushi.

Shock made Kuromu momentarily forget to struggle. The back of her head tingled, and her purple locks stood on ends.

Shit.

No, god damn it.

No no no no no-

The wind chimes by the door tinkled with a melodic, welcoming sound. It also alerted the people within that there were customers.

Whoever was 500 floors upstairs probably hated her.

"We'll get some food, then Kuromu-chan can try to get a job from Yamamoto-san." Haru smiled at Kuromu in what she thought was a reassuring way as she dragged Kuromu into the sushi restaurant, oblivious to the internal turmoil of her new friend.

She might not fear Yamamoto Takeshi anymore, but that didn't mean that she wasn't awkward around him!

Nooooo, someone help!

**XXXXXXX**

Hibari Kyoya was not happy.

He had lost; the Hibari family's only surviving blood, the demon prefect of Namimori, the uncrowned King unanimously decided by the surrounding towns of Namimori, the Hibari Kyoya, had lost. He had been defeated, and then humiliated by the disgrace of all pineapples, Rokudo Mukuro, and it was not even a fair fight!

And thus it was safe to say that Hibari Kyoya was not happy. He was upset. He was furious.

To have lost to him in such a disgraceful way, to have lost his dignity before him had enraged Hibari beyond what he had ever felt. That herbivore was despicable; he was undisciplined and a stain on Hibari's pride. Even one of his few hobbies of sakura viewing seemed to have become tainted by Rokudo Mukuro; his presence was everywhere in the sakura trees he made sure to fill his beloved school with, no matter what Hibari did to discipline his mind.

Gritting his teeth, he let his anger simmer within his heart as he stalked the purple haired herbivore from a higher ground, the roof of the shops in the shopping district. He had sworn to never step foot in here, but here he was.

There were too many people, their inane chattering too loud, too chaotic, too undisciplined. Even so, he could not punish them for crowding, not yet, not until he got what he needed.

Hibari creased his delicate brows as the shrilly herbivore dragged his prey into a sushi restaurant. This would not do. His patience was running out faster than a candle burning on its last centimeter.

He narrowed his steely gray eyes at the herbivore with unnatural purple hair, and let a rare flash of unrestrained malice light up his twin orbs. Discipline would be enforced, even if by enforcing it in vengeance, he would become undisciplined. He hissed, soft and dangerously, "I will find Rokudo Mukuro, and you, herbivore, will lead me to his nest."

Situated in the restaurant beside Haru, Kuromu shivered, goosebumps rising uncomfortably.

**XXXXXXX**

Namimori was strange. It had always been.

If anyone asked around, Namimori had always been ruled by the Hibari family. If they properly researched, no one remembered a time when the Hibari were not around to protect and govern Namimori.

Visitors to Namimori got extensive background checks before being allowed to stay for a week, and taxes were paid only to the head of Hibari. Their town was not on the map of Japan, and the government of Japan was even collectively ignoring Namimori and its surrounding towns and cities. Namimori had a miniature government completely disassociated from the country, and people of Namimori were obliged to go on all out war whenever the order was issued. This strange place had clear drawn borders and regular patrols, functioning on their own laws and a separate judgement system. Other cities that tried to purchase land near the borders of Namimori were promptly reminded of the threat of war, and persistent buyers were quietly eliminated. Going financially decimated was not a rarity either for cities opposing Namimori. But why did they even have borders?

Leaving Namimori was easier than entering the city, but talking about Namimori's inner workings was punishable by death. Not that a normal citizen would know anything about the inner workings of Namimori, though they probably didn't know that they needed to pay taxes to anyone but the Hibari family anyway.

The vigilante-like sovereigns known as the Hibari family kept Namimori under the iron rule of the Disciplinary Committee of Namimori Middle school, and most citizens of Namimori and its surrounding towns found themselves in a willing state of denial about strange happenings not reported on Namimori's newscast. Taking for granted that Namimori was the standard for all of Japan, they blinded themselves to the fact that despite seeming Japanese and all, Namimori was certainly a miniature state separate from Japan, off the map and officially uncharted.

There were several rules in Namimori that were upheld up religiously, the most prominent one in Namimori being the Rule of Conquest. Defying the rules had consequences, whether it be getting socially isolated or being punished by the relevant authorities. Most of the Hibari family never bothered much with enforcing the unspoken rules, for citizens of Namimori already did their job for them most of the time.

The Rule of Conquest being — the loser of an official duel must fulfill the conditions agreed upon without fail.

And thus, it was with this in mind that Hibari Kyoya took action.

He would get his answers, no matter what.

**XXXXXXX**

As Hibari approached, sweat beads rolled down her neck, and nervously, she began inching back bit by bit. She had to escape - now.

Though she had no idea what she did to attract his attention, the look of fierce determination on his face seemed to be extremely unfriendly. Steel gray eyes darkened into almost black, and though his words were quiet, she could almost hear the impatient snarl.

"Herbivore, where is Rokudo Mukuro?" He had demanded from her, his voice low and filled with a malicious promise.

It was extremely rude.

She would rather not answer such a rude and undisciplined person. She had no such inclination to cause World War III by seriously answering him either.

However, she felt like she would be killed if she didn't answer him. She was so scared that she might do a handstand!

No wait, that's not it-

"I will make my last stand!"

That's not it either! She screeched at herself mentally. Why did she say that out loud?!

She suppressed the urge of running away, recalling all the animal documentaries of sudden actions provoking a predator's natural instincts. Just as the prey in those shows tried to flee out of their natural instincts of fear and danger, the predator would pounce and strike, ruthlessly and mercilessly...

Eh...

She continued backing away in futility. She really, really, really didn't want to end up like the deer in that documentary!

'I mean... Well...' She thought, trying to convince herself. 'He wouldn't hit a frail beautiful girl who just recovered from a car crash, at least not in public... right?'

Crack! The sound of his tonfa embedding itself into concrete. Around the spot of impact, there were bits of concrete cracked in a visible radius.

How scary, that a teenager civilian could destroy concrete with an aimed throw of his tonfa.

Having landed near her, she could only assume that that was his version of a warning.

It was unfortunately very convincing. She froze, and plastered on a fake smile. If she remembered right, Hibari was violence incarnated, a beast that willingly chained itself with his version of discipline. However, for certain very specific exceptions—

(Stage whisper: Mukuro!)

—even those chains could be loosened.

"Ahahahaha... hehee... Eh, s-soooo... Hibari-san..." She could not find enough words for this bullshit to regain respectable eloquence. Cold sweat was dripping, gazes were darting — randomly, searching for a glimmer of survival. "Who're you talking about...?"

She feigned ignorance. If she had to choose sides, she would obviously choose the one that's kinder to her... that is, Mukuro, when he wasn't tor- tutoring her.

She merely hoped to come out unscathed. That was such a humble wish, that the gods above would surely grant it, however much they messed with her?

(Or perhaps, faced with Hibari on the path of vengeance, this was too humongous of an ambition.)

"Do not take me for a fool, herbivore."

She parted her mouth to deny his accusations, but what came out was beyond her control, and it left her in shock and horror. "You don't need my help with that, thank you very much."

What...

The...

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuuuck— Ohmykamisamawhatwasshedoooiiinngg...

She felt like crying. No, screw that, she might actually be crying. Tears of blood dripping from her heart and all that.

Looking at him now, even trees would bleed tears. His killing intent was so high that it wasn't funny, and that murderous glare could probably kill babies with its intensity.

She was trembling and backing away fast. Eyes wide, she ignored what the animal documentaries said about provocation, and began sprinting for her life.

She pushed herself and exerted her muscles, hoping to get another burst of speed. It was going okay, and she almost seemed to have a chance, but then she made the mistake of looking back.

He was chasing her.

"NOOOOOOO, DON'T COME NEAR ME!" She screamed, pushing her legs to become a blur. "STOP, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!"

"Bite. To. Death." His words were guttural growls. His aura was an oppressive inky purple. It frightened Kuromu that he did not even try for a semblance of civility as he said that catchphrase.

"I SAID I'M SORRY, DIDN'T I?"

She ran, diving under obstacles and risking a great fall to take short cuts to places from great heights.

He chased, and persisted in doing just that, up until they were tired, panting and on the brink of collapsing. Even though Hibari was great at fighting, he did not have much experience running and weaving through crowds, since people usually didn't dare to run from him.

Soon enough, the sun was down and the sky was dimming fast. Clouds darkened into an greyish faded blue, and the silhouette of a moon appeared faintly on the other side of the sky. Before they knew it, their chase had spanned the entire area, and as the first of the pink and orange shades lit up the sky, evening had arrived.

They shared a glance.

Hibari was too tired to feel even anger, but his prey was just a few metres away.

His breathing was still erratic.

**Choose!**  
**A: Continue pursuing his target.**  
**B: Call it a day and retry later.**

Being the obstinate person that Hibari was, no doubt he would choos—

"...Count yourself lucky, hah, herbi..vore... Hah..." He declared generously, having been too out of breath to sound vehement. He shot a half hearted glare at the girl, and turned to head back to... wherever he lived.

Huh? He chose B?

Kuromu collapsed in relief, lacking the energy to share the author's confusion.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **I kept this text for a year... Holy shit. Okay I'm not gonna update anymore frequent, but I have several other chapters for this story saved up and not updated yet. The moment I find the time to plan I'll update in bulk.

* * *

Pain seared her every nerve. She screamed as her blood scorched her veins like liquid fire. This was beyond what normal pain should feel like.

There was no end, and every reprieve was followed by more pain. Her eyes could see nothing but black and white exploding in her vision.

Pain. Pain. Pain.

She thrashed on the cold concrete ground, struggling against an invisible foe, wishing, hoping the pain would end. Tears leaked from unseeing eyes, and for a second, her tears felt like scalding water.

She continued screaming even as her throat went raw. Her voice was lost, and her screams were soundless even as her tears ran unending down her cheeks. Her pupils were dilated, unfocused.

Pleasepleasepleaseplease_please_... She wanted it to stop.

But it didn't.

No, no, no, no, she had to stay focused. She had to remember. She clenched down her teeth, and trembling, she gripped the fabric of her dress until her knuckles went white. She forcefully shut her eyes, even though it made no difference to her sight. Her tears stopped leaking, but the pain didn't stop.

Then it did, but the pain of burning from the inside did not go away. She laid heaving on the ground, a weak smile on her face. Her eyes were red and sore from continuous crying, and the temporary vision granted to her torched her eyes with light. The feeling did not go away, she thought, this was phantom pain; this was a memory of pain.

She let that sensation wash over her, then disappear, for she knew she could remember it on command. "N... ext..." She managed, nearly inaudible. Her mind was clear again, capable of dealing with the torturous lesson.

She felt a moment of hesitation from Mukuro, but it went away just as quickly. Without warning then, her torment restarted itself with a sharp, painful sensation of getting stabbed, each body part at a time.

Etched inside her brain was the illusion of pain. But she didn't fault him - couldn't.

She asked him for this. She chose to take the faster method, and he did warn her that it might destroy her. Even though it didn't seem like he cared, she knew he was worried and had tried his best to dissuade her from her course. But in the end, he could not refuse her, not when he glimpsed the fiery resolution in her eyes. And so he introduced her to nearly every pain known to mankind.

This was faster. She could handle it. She had handled it well in fact, discarding stray thoughts to make sure she remembered, to make sure she did not break.

After all, the most convincing of illusions came from personal experience; the information that could only be filched from memory; her perceptions, her senses.

And pain...

...was her blind spot...

For she was never someone quite so empathetic; at least, not to the point of being able to replicate convincing pain and enforcing it on someone.

It had to be enforced onto her, seared onto her body, etched within her mind. Every part of her had to be made to remember, so that the feeling could be recalled on command.

Electrocution, poison, death by bludgeoning, stabbing, slashing, bleeding out, painpainpainpain, fire, itwontstophurting—

And she told him a resounding "No." when he told her to take things slowly.

"You don't have to do this all at once, Nagi, you could do this at a slower pace, I mean, maybe five minutes a day. Or at least something other than nonstop?"

Uncharacteristically, he had been concerned. She was a little touched actually, but she was too, determined to do things her way. Seeing as she was kind of asking him to torture her, she let the mistake slide with only a mumbled correction of "It's Kuromu, Mukuro."

It was probably difficult for him, but she looked away from the pained look on his face and made sure he understood that she was serious.

"Please, Mukuro. I need this. Not just stronger, but strong enough to be feared."

It was an obsession; a parasitic thing that had latched onto her and just would not let go. She would never be satisfied with her strength.

It was unhealthy to the maximum.

Perhaps something in her mind had fractured from her first two deaths; it snapped when she was slapped in the face with her blatant weakness and the vulnerability that came from that. Or perhaps it was the fact that she had literally no impact on any of her lives before now; she was unremarkable, forgettable, insignificant, so she thirsted for a way to make sure she could never become nothing but a faint recollection.

She was sane, thankfully, still extremely sane and normal, like any other girl. She was just... more passionate with the idea of power than most.

Power — strength, authority, influence, reputation, money, connections, fear, knowledge.

She wanted power over people — a way to ensure her safety, and a way to become memorable.

She wanted friends, friendships of affection, not of convenience. Friendships formed to become unbreakable, not friends that left her over mere words.

—She had merely been 'fair' in her first life.

As in plain-looking, with average intelligence and a dull demeanor - an unfortunate result of attempting to blend in. She had gotten on with life as if it had been tedious, and as a result, people had gotten along with her as if she had been tedious.

Needless to say, she had hated every moment of it.

She wanted to become special, and if not admired, feared. Enduring pain was something she felt she had to do, to prove to herself that she did have the resolution to achieve her goal.

That night, left on the table was a stalk of fennel flower, like little dots of bright yellow cheering her up. A little note sat innocently beside the flower, and written on it was a message - the meaning of the fennel flower.

_Worthy of all praise, strength._

No name was left on the note, but there was never doubt as to who was the sender.

She slept in peace that night.

* * *

**A/N: **Everything in life is getting intense, so I probably won't be able to deal with updating any time soon. However, this doesn't mean I ain't writing. Just that no one's gonna see what I wrote until I hit the mood.


	13. Chapter 13

Kuromu gnashed her teeth and clicked her pen repeatedly in frustration. This was supposed to be simple; she had gone through something similar hadn't she?! Did dying make her stupid?

An itch that she could not claw began snaking its way up to curl around her heart, squeezing light like a warning as pressure began building. Sweat slickened her palms and loosened her grip on her pen, and she disgustedly rubbed her palms on her shirt.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Seconds passed by in silence uninterrupted save for the sound of clicking pens, yet her assignment remained undone. Anxiety frazzled her with every passing moment. The environment she has put herself in was removed from distractions, yet somehow this made her thoughts scream angrily, insidiously her every fear and doubt. It echoed within her mind, bouncing off the walls of her skull almost painfully. She was going to have a migraine.

Her throat felt parched and her eyes strained and blurred, her entire body struggling to maintain still. And yet, she drove herself on, pushing herself to stare at the questions - as though she could burn a hole through it, and somehow reach the answers that way.

Her grip on the pencil was deathly white, and her lack of progress made it seem more and more appealing to take a break. But she shouldn't. She didn't deserve a break for all that she hadn't yet done.

She had to prove herself - be better, be stronger, be smarter, if only because she was the least trusted. That way Boss would at least stop treating her as someone who should be protected, right? If his protective nature was to remain, she would never get to leave any significant impact on Vongola, to sear her mark upon history. She would become just another nameless casualty in the passing of time.

Besides, she didn't even belong in this place - this beautiful, magical dimension. She was probably going to fuck up at some point and make the higher powers regret giving her such a new and vibrant life, and they'd retract their divine favour. She had to - had to leave a scar behind for them to remember her by - had to make her time worthwhile.

Familiar tears pricked at her eyes, but she willed them away through sheer unfocused desperation. She had to - she had to do _something_! Her breathing became audible as the self inflicted stress began crushing her, and her struggles dug a wild, black gash across her paper. The pen was strangled in her grip, and its tip pushed a hole through the paper. Ink was bleeding all over the place, smudged by her hand.

She had to - _had to —!_

* * *

Spying at Kuromu from a corner, Mukuro gave a sigh of relief. His decision to enroll her in a school was the right one. It seemed like homeschooling was only giving his disciple even more pressure, and that girl was already halfway through eating her sanity.

Now he just had to tell her the news and... oh. He had submitted the documents with her name in Hiragana hadn't he? Well, she could take a break and obsess over choosing her name now. He just had to find her a kanji dictionary and discreetly retrieve the documents for a moment while she pandered to her wishy washy nature...

A few hours later, he had successfully maneuvered the girl away from her self studies and onto the idea of choosing a name of glory.

She was surprisingly easy to pry away from work once he preyed on her delusion of grandeur…

* * *

Her eyebrows deeply furrowing, she glared at the kanji dictionary and worried her lower lip.

A name - something that defined oneself - an identity to build one's reputation upon.

Just like it was described above, a name was pretty important. For example, someone with a strange name; wouldn't that person be mocked forever? Strange puns or catchy nicknames, if the person was unlucky, things like that would stick with him or her forever.

It shouldn't be an exaggeration to say that living with a weird name was a diluted form of psychological torture!

Well, it was pretty inconvenient -or should I say unfortunate- that people could rarely choose their own name.

Although, that did not apply to Kuromu, fortunately.

And thus, hoping to find her own name, she was currently curled up on the sofa with a worn kanji dictionary that was obviously from a hundred-yen shop. A cheap dictionary for a cheapskate!

It was an important decision between kanji and kanji—

No, it was a life decision, for it should be a pretty name that lived on in people's hearts— Kuromu thought of something like that, eyes burning.

How passionate.

The words made her head almost spin.

So many pronunciations, that she almost flipped to the wrong pages.

But it didn't matter; she was at the correct page now.

Kuromu scrunched her face up in concentration, an iron grip on the thick, wordy book.

Which one should she use?

This was an important decision - one that would decide her future itself, yes, a life decision.

Her surname was obvious. 'Dokuro' for 'Skull'.

'Kuro' was obviously 'Black', but 'Mu' was one that offered an array of choices.

She murmured something to herself before determinedly crossing out several options. 'Halberd' was not something to be put within a name, especially not a girl's name, even if it did happen to be her choice of weapon. She wrinkled her face in distaste; the ridicule that she would receive with a name like 'Black Halberd' was unimaginable.

'Mu' could also be read as 'Mist', which was too much of a coincidence to be anything but a conspiracy. She scratched that out too, vehemently, narrowing her bright violet eyes at that word.

She had hoped to burn a hole into that spot, but it stubbornly refused her demand. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, though there was no denying of the self satisfaction she had derived from the coincidence — it said a lot about what kind of attention was being paid to her from entities up above.

'Pupil' would be way too stupid since she had violet eyes currently, not black. Or did that mean student? Is her name forever going to be a pun now?

Please don't even mention 'Six', since she didn't even know it could be pronounced as 'Mu'. Not to mention how weird 'Black Six' would be for a name.

—Wait, were the previous two kanji a reference to Mukuro?

She immediately looked away, and cleared her mind.

Nope.

Next was 'Blank', or also read as 'Nothing'.

Seriously? Kuromu rolled her eyes in mock horror, for what self respecting girl wanted her name to be 'Black Nothing' anyway? It was ridiculous.

(And redundant.)

Yea, no, even for her, the name is unacceptable.

Inauspicious, she muttered to herself. As if her head wasn't blank enough, or she hadn't had enough blackouts to last a lifetime or anything.

(Not that she was calling herself an idiot— though she was a real idiot. And it wasn't like she was superstitious or anything, you know? You know?)

Finally, her only option, not to say her favourite option, 'dream'.

Perhaps she was being a little precocious if she said what she actually wanted to about that choice. But if she didn't speak her mind, wouldn't she just seem like she had Eighth Grade Syndrome?

Well, most likely, she would be diagnosed as having precisely that and much more, but—

That wasn't the point.

Freedom of speech was the point.

Saying what she wanted, self consciously, to describe her whole life up until now as nothing but-

"A dream that I can never make heads or tails of... Fading to black... If I say this about myself, I really must be a pathetically idealistic person." She said as a matter-of-fact.

But that was how she was, and smiling to herself, for who else was there to judge- Her name was her own choice!

In the end, she properly decided on the kanji for her name —髅 黑梦— 'Skull' as her surname and 'Black Dream' as her name.

It was fine like this.

She never wanted to be remotely similar to Chrome anyway. Chrome Dokuro and Dokuro Kuromu were two different people on two different paths, and she would determinedly continue walking, even if she ended up on the wrong path.

(At the very least, she would leave footprints. Carbon footprints, bloody footprints, proof that she had once lived so intensely.)

It didn't made sense, but she never said that they had to.

She really didn't have the Eighth Grade Syndrome. Really!


End file.
